The Maze III: Sanctuary
by Third World
Summary: Completing the circle. Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

**Before You Enter The Maze… **

**Disclaimer** – _Gensomaden Saiyuki _belongs solely to Minekura Kazuya and whoever else may share its legal rights. This story was written without permission; my only purpose is to pay tribute and entertain other fans. No profit has been made, or will ever be made, with it.

The poem _The Silent Scream_ belongs solely to Nightdweller.

**Warning **– For homosexual themes, foul language, sexual harassment, racial bigotry (human vs. youkai), violence, torture, and rape. If any of the above offends or disturbs you, be mature and hit your back button instead of hitting me. My concern with your sensibility ends where my freedom of speech begins.

**Author's Note** – The hero's mythic journey has a somber version: the _nekyia—_from the Greek _vekuia _(_vekus__,_ corpse), after the eleventh chant of Homer's _Odyssey_. It describes a descent into darkness, a plunge into the unconscious, a peregrination through Death's realms. _Sanctuary _is the last installment of a trilogy that follows this premise and if you have not read _The Maze _and its sequel _The Anthill_, what comes next will make very little sense to you.

My deepest, sincerest thanks to my betas Willow, Procyon and Car Jack, and a special bow to dear Softwelshrain, who helped me with this final version.

**The Maze III: Sanctuary **

_Until the sanctuary so sought after, _

_Presents itself to me. _

_The sanctuary to peace of mind._

_The sanctuary away from this psychotic dream _

_Which kills me slowly. _

_That I would be liberated, _

_I embrace it wholly, _

_Only to discover myself naked _

_In a wilderness made of thorns, _

_In search of a key _

_To a door _

_Which holds no room… _

_ The Silent Scream_, by Nightdweller

**Chapter 1**

The harsh afternoon sun beat against the canvas stretched over the back of the wagon, offering no respite to its occupant. Lying on his back, Gojyo drifted in and out of consciousness, knowing very little of his surroundings. There were voices sometimes. Voices that inscrutably whispered away in demanding or angry or soothing tones.

They did not matter, the voices.

What mattered was the agony that his body had become.

And the heat that made him whimper in exhaustion.

The voices…

The voices did not.

They vanished as soon as the tide of blurry images washed over him.

Unlike the pain.

Unlike the heat.

Those he would feel even in his dreams.

He let out a pitiful moan when yet another cause for distress registered: Thirst. Soaring Thirst that would continue to grow, until he was left writhing in need, until he was Need itself.

"Water," he begged, trying to push himself up. Some unyielding strength held him in place and he snarled in warning. There was water nearby, he could sense it. There was water and he Needed it _now_.

The unexpected damp touch on his forehead made him buck, suddenly energized. He struck then, mouth wide open, managing to sink his teeth into the source of moisture. He gnawed at it to extract every drop of water he could, but it was not enough, not nearly enough.

Whatever it was that he had caught was struggling to get free. Frustrated, he tightened his bite, tasting salt and a thicker, bittersweet fluid that he gulped down without any hesitation. He was so absorbed by it that it took him a while to notice a second, much more tempting option to quench his thirst. A colder thing brushed tantalizingly against his cheek, and there was water in there. Fresh water. Nostrils flaring, he let go of his now still prey and turned to it, chewing desperately at metal before instincts took over. Water. At last. He keened in oblivious bliss while he drank.

As the Thirst receded, he started to calm down, floating in a warm, fuzzy limbo. Water was still offered to him at intervals and he sipped it, licking lazily at everything that came in contact with his lips. He spread his legs wide when he felt a soft caress on his hair. He wanted that touch on his lower body.

Staring up at the hovering shadow, he lifted his hips in invitation.

A voice intruded then—distant, faint. But, this time, the words had a real meaning. "…going on in there, Hakkai?"

"Nothing, Goku," a second, closer voice answered.

"Nothing? Your hand is bleeding!"

"My fault, really. I … cooling him … wasn't careful. He bit the cloth … got to my wrist."

"…_bit _you? Like a dog?"

"…an accident."

"Sanzo won't…"

"Sanzo doesn't…"

Sanzo.

Gojyo squeezed his eyes shut.

No, he did not want to think. He did not want to remember.

He did not want to be…

"Gojyo?"

He welcomed the heat.

And the pain.

The all-encompassing, all-forgiving pain.

The lips that brushed against his were incommensurably gentle. "Sleep tight, my love."

Yes, sleep.

The dreams would be coming for him soon, very soon.

But for now…

For now he wanted the Nothingness devoid of any questions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

"Hakkai?" Goku's voice drifted in from the outside, hoarse with exhaustion. "Hey, Hakkai?"

Hakkai did not even bother to acknowledge the call. He had been sitting motionless for hours in the improvised tent he had pitched on the wagon flatbed, sweat trickling down his face, eyes closed, listening to Gojyo's labored breathing. Just listening to it as he waited for their tenuous mind connection to be established again. He had to reassure Gojyo that he was safe, that his old friend Hakkai was here with and for him. Sanzo and Goku could drive the wagon—and the gods alone knew how Sanzo was managing—but he would not leave Gojyo's side.

The wagon had been stationary for some minutes now.

"I think we're setting up camp," Goku elaborated, sounding closer. "Come down, Sanzo wants you."

Hakkai opened his eyes and reached out to brush his fingertips against Gojyo's hot forehead. "Tell him I'm busy," he said softly, knowing Goku's keen ears would pick up the answer. "I'll—"

A muttered curse, then Goku pulled the flap open, poking his head inside the tent. "What the fuck, Hakkai?" If out of respect for Gojyo's sleep or if for Sanzo's benefit, at least he kept his voice low. "Why are you acting like a jerk? Sanzo needs you! Go to him."

Hakkai turned to the boy. Should he have Goku ask Sanzo for more water? Sanzo was maintaining their supply under the wagon driver's bench now—he had not been happy to learn that Hakkai had 'wasted' an entire flagon on Gojyo in a single go. But then—Hakkai caressed Gojyo's face one last time before withdrawing his hand—even the slightest wet touch would cause the kappa to react violently. Better to let him rest, even if 'rest' meant this fever-induced torpor, and spare both of them another agonizing scene.

"Hakkai?" Goku insisted in a much more familiar tone. "Can't you just go to him? Please? I'm so, _so _tired, and Sanzo is unwell…"

Hakkai sighed. This morning, when Sanzo had stumbled back from the fortress with a strangely unresponsive Gojyo in tow, it had been Goku who had organized their departure. Practically blind, he had been useless to do anything but pant in horror at the knowledge that Sanzo had been shot, that Sanzo was still bleeding heavily, and that it had been _Gojyo_ who had pulled the trigger—or so the soldiers who had escorted his teammates to the stable had alleged.

"It serves you right, monk," one of those men had said. "What is that saying again? You reap what you sow?"

"Hakkai, bring me my horse," Sanzo had growled, ignoring both the soldier's jibe and Goku's panicky questions about his condition. "We're leaving."

Hakkai had tried, and failed, to stand. "Yes, I—Goku, can you help me here? Can you—can you tell me where the horse is?"

No response. Though a sudden cracking noise put an abrupt end to Goku's frantic stammering and brought forth some discreet sniggering from someone at Hakkai's left.

"The horse," Sanzo snarled. "Take that fucking horse. Now!"

Hakkai tried to stand again. He succeeded in locking his knees under him, though he had no idea how he would walk to the animal and effectively control it. He was still attempting his first step when he realized that the cracking sound he had heard had been a slap—probably Sanzo hitting Goku to shake him out of his hysterics—and that Sanzo had ordered _Goku _to take the horse.

Frustrated, his stomach churning painfully, Hakkai could only wait for the muffled sounds and voices around him to make sense. They did, eventually: Sanzo and Gojyo would double mount—Gojyo must be in poor shape if Sanzo was willing to share the saddle with him—and Goku would lead the group on foot. As for Hakkai…

"Hold tight," Goku told him, guiding his right hand to the horse's bridle. "You'll have to walk."

Hakkai had held tight. And had tried to walk, though a good deal of his weight was supported by the horse. During the first few meters, he had braced himself, waiting for the bullets; but then they kept advancing, and meters turned into kilometers and still no bullets came. From time to time, Hakuryu would fly over the area to show them a safer route, and it was obvious that they were going downhill during some parts of the journey. There had been frightened people around them. There had been shots in the distance. There had been smoke. And it had been like the sun was searing holes in his skin—somewhere along the way he had rid himself of the bloodied dark jacket, losing the scant protection he might have had with it. But he had Held Tight and Kept Moving. When he felt someone prying his fingers open, he had screamed and cursed, had tried to fight, had called for Gojyo. He could not be separated from Gojyo again. The next thing he knew, he was lying on a low couch, Gojyo unconscious or asleep a few steps from him. He had simply looked at Gojyo's red hair for several minutes, too sore to do anything else but breathe. Until it dawned on him that he could see. Things were still blurry, but he could _see_. Relieved to no end, he had turned his head to inspect his surroundings. To find Sanzo, ashen-faced, sitting against a large image of a Smiling Buddha, two kittens playing with his discarded robe.

Everything now had the indistinct vagueness of a very disturbing dream.

Goku, on the other hand, had lived the nightmare all the way through, without respite.

"Hakkai, are you paying attention?" Goku cried, bringing Hakkai back to their wagon and their improvised tent. "Sanzo's waiting for you!" The sky behind him, Hakkai noticed, had changed colors; it was pearly golden instead of bright, oppressive, cloudless blue. They had traveled a good distance, then. Or so it seemed.

"Come in here," he invited softly.

Goku frowned, but hopped onto the wagon flatbed. "Will you go to Sanzo? He's—"

"Did you clean that properly?" Hakkai interrupted.

"Clean?" Goku asked. "Clean what? I'm not supposed to clean anything, I must help Sanzo—"

Hakkai pointed at Goku's poorly bandaged hands. "That. Did you?"

"I'm fine," Goku mumbled, wrinkling his nose. "It's hot in here. And smelly."

"You don't smell of flowers, either," Hakkai said evenly, searching for the antiseptic in the wooden box to his left. He had to admit that they had been lucky in finding transportation _and_ a shelter where he could at least try to treat his ailing friends. No, not lucky, he corrected himself. It had been Sanzo's planning that had granted them all of this, Sanzo's planning all along…

"Do you remember a wagon on our way to this town?" Sanzo had asked him earlier, ignoring the kitten that had taken an interest in his boots. "A wagon abandoned on the main road?"

Struggling to leave his couch, Hakkai had dismissed the question in favor of a much more pertinent doubt. "Where are we?"

"Still in the town," Sanzo answered, voice strained. "Goku brought us here, he said he knew this house."

Hakkai managed to gain his feet and staggered towards Gojyo, wincing at the sight of his left arm. "Gods, what have those humans done to him?" he murmured. "Gojyo, can you hear me? Gojyo? Sanzo, he's burning up!"

"The wagon on the main road, Hakkai," Sanzo insisted, coarsely. "Can you remember it?"

Hakkai turned to him, ready to lash out. But then… Then Sanzo—like himself and like Gojyo—was shirtless; Sanzo had his black turtleneck balled up and pressed against his side. Sanzo had been shot—Hakkai remembered _that_—and Sanzo was clearly in great pain. "There _was_ a wagon," he conceded. "Perhaps broken—"

"Perhaps." Sanzo closed his eyes. "Perhaps not."

"How are you?" Much to Hakkai's chagrin, the question ended up more like an accusation than a real expression of concern. "The bullet—"

"—caught me a little above my right hip and went through," Sanzo rasped. "Hurts like a motherfucker, but I'll survive."

"Let me have a look."

Sanzo attempted to shrug, then sagged against the Smiling Buddha, grimacing.

The injury was nasty, the entrance hole huge on Sanzo's thin body. "Where's Goku?" Hakkai asked conversationally while he accessed his _chi_. Weak, unstable, not nearly enough to perform the healing that had to be done. "He can give Gojyo a bath, try to break his fever. There's water in here, right?"

"I sent him and Hakuryu to get us a second horse," Sanzo said through gritted teeth.

"Whatever for?" Hakkai had to prop himself on the Smiling Buddha when he straightened his back; he would topple over otherwise. "Aren't we—"

"—leaving. Wasn't that clear since the beginning?"

"Sanzo, you're in no condition to travel! And Gojyo—"

"How long do you think it will take that Colonel to come after us again?" Sanzo demanded impatiently, squinting up at Hakkai. "Do you believe that this mess will be over just like that?"

"They let us go, the Colonel said we were free—"

"And, obviously, everything the Colonel says is true," Sanzo spat. "Especially after you idiots broke into his yard reeking of his men's blood. Fuck, I'm done arguing over every single decision I make. You and your precious kappa can stay here, if you wish. But Goku and I will leave. But don't expect a rescue when those soldiers come for you again."

Hakkai felt his anger bubbling and a fitting riposte about the effectiveness of Sanzo's last 'rescue' ready to burst forth. He took a deep breath, instead. "With this town crumbling apart, we won't be its army's priority," he observed. "A couple of days won't make a difference as far as our departure is concerned, but will give Gojyo and _you_ time to recover a little."

"I said _no_, Hakkai."

"These humans have bested us so far because basically we've been working against each other," Hakkai went on. "In normal circumstances—"

With a drunkard's lack of coordination, Sanzo drew his gun and shakily aimed it at Hakkai. "Don't make me waste a bullet on you," he slurred. "Goku lost our luggage, so I'll have to be careful with my ammunition. But I'll shoot you to spare myself from hearing more senseless drivel."

"What do you mean, Goku lost our luggage?" Hakkai asked stupidly, indifferent to the gun.

"I mean that Goku lost our luggage," Sanzo bristled. "Which means… Uh, let's see. Oh, yeah. Goku lost our luggage." He must have seen something in Hakkai's single eye, for his next words were softer, full of sadness. "Everything is gone. Clothes, medicine, my ammunition…"

"Hakkai? Hakkai, are you paying attention?"

Hakkai snapped his head up. Goku had settled in a corner of their tent—the farthest from Gojyo—and now studied him with anxiety written all over his dirty face.

"No, I—I'm sorry," Hakkai stammered. "What did you say again?"

Goku licked his crusted lips. "I said that I had to use that big pan to water the horse. You know, the pan with the wooden handle?" Awkward hesitation. "Should I not have?"

"No, it's—" Hakkai blinked trying to focus. "No problem."

"Good." Goku sniffed, scratched his head, and looked everywhere but in Gojyo's direction. "I thought that you… You were so pale that I thought… You okay?"

No. His mementoes from Kanan had been in that bag. The birthday letter she had written him, as well as the necklace with the shell she had found on that beach after they had made love…

_Things, those were only things_, he told himself desperately. _What really matters will be with me forever. _

"Hakkai? What is it?" Goku's was begging him now. 

"Headache," Hakkai said tightly and handed Goku the pot of ointment he had been searching for. "Here, put that on your wounds."

"No need. Really."

"Humor me."

"Thanks," Goku muttered as he took the pot. "Do you, uh, do you want me to stay with him while you're with Sanzo?"

Despite everything, Hakkai smiled. One-track minded little bastard. At least Goku had stopped sputtering death threats against Gojyo and was willing to share the same cramped space with him. It was a beginning. "Would you do that, Goku?"

"Yeah, sure." Goku shrugged. "But I won't get closer. My hands are already lousy, I don't need bite marks on them, too."

"Don't try to give him water. Just let him rest and call me if there's any change."

Goku nodded and lowered his head, pretending to be interested in his boots. Hakkai sighed once more. There were so many things to amend, so many bridges they would have to rebuild to function again as a team… So much needed forgiveness.

Right now, such a task seemed impossible.

Carefully, avoiding sudden movements, he left their tent and climbed down from the wagon. Hakuryu hedgehopped around and landed on the driver's bench with a greeting peep.

"Hello to you, too," Hakkai whispered, reaching out to pet the dragon. Instead he had to seize the bench and wait for the dizzy spell to pass. "I'm all right," he said at Hakuryu's insistent head butting against his arm. "Just wretchedly, terminally tired." Craning his neck, he spotted Sanzo sitting on the roadside, under some meager trees. "And now I'll have to go to him, Hakuryu. And talk to him. And be the Reasonable One, when all I want to do is weep and scream and kill someone." Hakuryu crooned in sympathy. Hakkai nodded at him and braced himself before commanding his rubbery legs to start moving again.

Sanzo acknowledged his presence with a tightening of his jaw. A jaw, Hakkai noticed inanely as he sat next to the human, in sore need of a shave. Only then did he see the item in Sanzo's hands. "Do we have another gun now?" he inquired, surprised.

With a practiced gesture, Sanzo opened the bullet chamber to display it to Hakkai: empty.

"There was only one bullet in it," Sanzo said. "One bullet for me. They didn't even object when I took this antique."

"Sanzo?" Hakkai began tentatively. "Did Gojyo really shoot—"

"Yes." Sanzo closed the chamber and threw the gun away, face uninviting.

Hakkai wanted to ask how it had happened—if it had been an accident, if Gojyo had been too sick to recognize Sanzo, or if Sanzo had provoked Gojyo to the point where no other reaction had been possible. And _how_, in all gods' names, Gojyo had come to be in possession of a gun. Sanzo's slumped shoulders were enough to make him back off, though. Now was not the moment to discuss whatever had transpired in the fortress. "Do you think it's safe to light a fire?" he asked softly. "There's food, but I'll have to cook it."

"No fire," Sanzo answered in a flat voice. He pointed his chin at the wagon. "Anything else in there we can use?"

"Men's clothing, most quite worn out. A couple of small dresses among them." Hakkai wiped his sweaty face on the sleeve of his borrowed shirt. When he had firstly rummaged through those belongings, he had been detached. One more chore he had to perform in order to help his team. Now… Now he could stop to think about the objects he had tossed into a pile. Little, cheap things. Like the china figurine of a dancer, so carefully wrapped. Like a colorful rag ball. There had been a decomposing body of a dog on the roadside when they had finally claimed the wagon—busy with securing one of their horses to it and setting the other horse free, he had barely paid attention to it. Now there was time. Time to imagine the little girl to whom those flowery dresses had belonged to throwing that ball, playing fetch with her dog. And the dog was dead, covered in flies.

_Like the little girl. _

Hakkai shuddered.

Where had _that _come from?

"Well. I suppose someone somewhere is making an inventory of _our_ things," he reasoned aloud, a painful lump in his throat.

Sanzo did not comment on that. He lay down on the dry ground, his bloodshot eyes intent on the sky. Hakkai looked at his tense profile and then at the wagon, torn. He wanted to go back to Gojyo. He needed to go back to Gojyo. He was afraid if he were not watching over Gojyo, Gojyo would be taken away from him again, even when ahead and behind them there was nothing but endless, deserted road. "Do you need—do you need me to take care of the horse?" he asked.

"No. Goku did that already."

"Can I bring you something? Water?"

"No. After your last stunt, you won't be touching our supply again, by the way."

Hakkai clenched and unclenched his fists, exasperated. Why had Sanzo called him here then?

"How is _he_?"

Ah. Now it made sense. 'He' as in Gojyo. Sanzo had called him to ask him about Gojyo. "Hanging in there," he rasped. "He needs—_I _need true rest. So I can help him. And you."

Sanzo closed his eyes. "You've already helped me."

"Not like it should be done. I'm still not—"

"We couldn't have stayed there, Hakkai," Sanzo interrupted, his voice dull. "I know you're angry, but it's me who is the guilty party here. Don't alienate Goku."

"I'm not angry at you for deciding to leave," Hakkai said in the following silence. "I think I'm angry at you for being—"

"—an insensitive motherfucker?" Sanzo suggested with a hint of amusement.

"—you," Hakkai finished, deflating.

"And wasn't that what I just said?" Sanzo remarked.

Hakkai snorted. And since Sanzo had stepped forward to meet him midway, he decided to do the same. "I'm relieved to have left," he confessed. "I couldn't stand those people's bigotry any longer." A pause. "How are _you _doing?"

"Hanging in here," Sanzo responded. "You?"

"Hanging in there and here," Hakkai joked lamely. "I'm … tired."

"You've got some impressive bruising on your face."

"Your friend Zhou Jun was not happy when he learnt that you had left," Hakkai said calmly.

Sanzo lifted his head, squinting up. "What did that fucker do?"

"Hit me a couple of times," Hakkai explained with a shrug. "There's more and, if you wish, I'll tell you the whole story later. You know, when this nightmare is finally over. Tomorrow morning, Hakuryu can take over and then—"

"We're not going to spend the night here, Hakkai," Sanzo said, relaxing back to his previous position. "I'll give the horse a couple of hours to rest, then we'll go on."

"Are we keeping the wagon, then? It's so much slower—"

"Yes, but at least Gojyo can lay there, right? Besides, there are some rocky patches on this road that we won't be able to cross without damaging the jeep's axle or getting flat tires. The wagon has more ground clearance, it will do better."

"How do you know…" Hakkai trailed off as something else registered. The sun was setting on the wrong side of the road. The sun was setting _behind_ them. They were going east! "We're going back!" he exclaimed, aghast.

"Back to the Temple of the Soul's Retreat," Sanzo replied. "Yes. And I'm certain you remember that we had to walk when we got to a particularly rough patch of the road."

"Sanzo, going back there—"

"I had no way of knowing what might be waiting for us if we just kept going west, Hakkai. But I know what we'll have in the temple. Besides, you need rest. So you can help Gojyo."

"And you," Hakkai added as he gaped at the dying sun. Their quest propelled them west, always west; there was no other possible choice of direction. Now this! The Sanzo-ikkou's world had been reversed, all right; it was completely upside down. He tilted his head backwards and laughed when he got an inverted image of the blackened trees that cluttered the roadside.

Well, at least he was able to _see_ them.

Blackened trees instead of amorphous, suffocating, terrifying blackness.

He caught movement on one of the highest branches and froze.

Damn, he recognized _that_!

It was the piece of Gojyo's torn shirt that they had left behind! They had made their break exactly in this place on their way to that town.

The horror of everything he and his friends had gone through flooded in a surge of images, sounds, and fear—fear that prevented him from breathing, that paralyzed him totally. In its wake, though, remained the certainty that they had survived, that they were all here, right here, right now. That, against all odds, the Sanzo-ikkou were indeed together to watch the sunset marking the end of the third day.

"Sanzo?" he said in awe. "The circle is being completed."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sanzo started awake when the wagon stopped—each jolt, each bump on the road was agony, but apparently he had been able to fall asleep (or had passed out) somewhere during the small hours of the long night. He quickly checked the other occupants of the flatbed—Goku dozed fretfully nearby, balled in on himself, and there was an agitated rustle coming from Gojyo's pallet—then turned to poke his head through the tent flap.

"What is it?" he asked Hakkai, who had replaced him on the driver's bench after their one and only break.

"We've arrived," Hakkai answered in a low voice, gently pushing Hakuryu out of his lap. "But things are too quiet."

Sanzo gained his knees with difficulty and leaned forward to look past Hakkai's back. They had arrived, all right: the first sunrays shone on the old central pagoda and brushed the top of the bell tower from where a group of little monkeys watched them, framed by a cloudless blue sky. Excited birdsong came from the trees. But the total absence of movement or sound that indicated human presence was disturbing.

"How are you doing?" Hakkai murmured, as if afraid of intruding upon such a silence with words.

Sanzo ignored the question and pointed at the path that led to the orchard. Their main concern right now was water, whether there was trouble waiting for them or not. "Let's go to the well."

Hakkai did not contest the order and snapped the reins again.

"As far as I can see," Sanzo said, fingers touching briefly the handle of his gun, "there's nothing out of place. But—" he broke off in a hiss when one of his legs was carelessly pressed against the side of the wagon.

"Sanzo?" Goku called from the tent, trying to get to the flap. "Are we there yet?" He found his way into fresh air and cheered. "Yeah! We are!"

"Be careful with those fucking elbows," Sanzo warned through gritted teeth.

"Did I hit you?" Goku widened his eyes, contrite. "Did I? Sorry!" Frowning, Goku took in his surroundings. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "Where's everybody?"

"You've already answered yourself," Sanzo replied, his irritation barely in check. "What's wrong is that we don't know where everybody is. Now shut up."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Goku."

"Yeah?"

"Shut. Up."

Hakkai skirted the main building of the temple with the horse at a maddeningly slow pace. No one in sight. All doors and windows were closed. The sanctuary now rejected visitors from the rest of the world—or was expecting an attack. The wagon was brought to halt as close the well as possible and for a while all they did was listen to the silence and the birds.

"Uh, I suppose we'll have to knock," Goku said. "Do you want me to go over there and knock, Sanzo? Sanzo?" Sanzo rested his head on his hands and Goku delivered his next question directly in his right ear: "You okay, Sanzo?"

"I thought I told you to shut up?" Sanzo growled without coming out from his hiding place.

"But—"

"Why don't you get us some water, Goku?" Hakkai interjected, keeping his tone even.

"We—we aren't going back to that cursed road, are we?" Goku whined. "Sanzo? We can't go back to that road! We can't, Sanzo!" Since no answer came, he moaned in self-commiseration and jumped to the ground. Hakkai fumbled for the bigger canister under his bench and handed it over to him.

"I swear I'm going to kill that damned monkey someday," Sanzo muttered, readying himself for the task of climbing out of the wagon flatbed.

"Anxiety makes him hyperactive," Hakkai said. "Do you need—" Sanzo stood with a sudden push and, hands firmly on the wagon, propped himself to his feet and to the ground. "Sanzo!"

Sanzo scrunched his eyes shut and waited for pain and dizziness to recede. Now at his side, Hakkai was still talking, angry at his carelessness; and when Sanzo's knees crumpled, Hakkai reached out and broke his fall. "I'm fine," Sanzo rasped with impatience.

"_I_ could go there and knock, you know," Hakkai said softly without relinquishing his grip. "There's no need to strain your injury."

Sanzo managed a sneer. "And the abbot will open his doors to a demon? Have you forgot how he used to harp on about this particular subject?"

"If he's in there, he will. He knows me; he knows I'm traveling with you. On the other hand, if we find a horde of Changed youkai inside, you won't be able to—"

"Hakkai."

"Yes?"

"You shut up, too."

Hakkai sighed. "Can you walk?"

"I'll have to," Sanzo said with all the dignity he could muster. "We won't go back to that cursed road."

Hakkai tactfully did not comment further. But he brought both of them closer, supporting most of Sanzo's weight. "Mind if I accompany you?"

Sanzo opened his mouth to deny the help, raised his hands to push the youkai away—and collapsed against Hakkai when his numb legs refused to move.

"All right?" Hakkai whispered against his neck.

"Fuck." Sanzo could feel Hakkai's lips forming a smile—and it was good to have Hakkai smiling at him again. "Come on, then." He took a deep breath and straightened his back, readying himself. An afterthought, and he added in a louder voice, "Goku? In case of trouble you're responsible for Gojyo."

The crashing noise behind them indicated that Goku had thrown something—possibly the heavy wooden bucket the abbot kept at the well. Their exhausted horse neighed and stomped. "Why _me_?" came the angry answer. "I'm not the traitorous bastard's babysitter!"

Sanzo turned and Glared at him. Goku met his eyes with defiance for a few seconds, then lowered his head.

"Start clawing at yourself again," Sanzo warned coldly when he noticed Goku's wriggling hands, "and I'll pull those nails of yours out with pliers."

Goku did not reply, but quickly hid his hands behind his back.

"Now, tell me again what I told you to do in case of trouble," Sanzo invited silkily.

"To watch out for Gojyo," Goku muttered.

"And what did Hakkai tell you to do before that?" Sanzo continued.

"To fetch us water." Goku's thin voice wavered a little.

"So you will fetch us water. And if there's trouble you will protect Gojyo. Anything else you need clarified?"

"Sanzo, I don't—"

"Anything else you need clarified?" Sanzo repeated, more forcefully.

"No. But I… No."

"Good. Now pick up that fucking bucket and fetch us some fucking water."

Sanzo waited for Goku to pick up the bucket before sagging against Hakkai. A short respite, during which he found Hakuryu's bloodshot eye watching him with what could only be compassion, then he and Hakkai were walking towards the temple. Each step was torture, each step had to be fought for. Sanzo bit his lips, otherwise he would have started whimpering. It was like his body was being impaled by a white-hot spear that would, at any given moment, sever it into two.

"Almost there," Hakkai murmured encouragingly. "We're almost there."

A few meters from the lateral entrance the first real signs of danger became visible: deep gouges marred the massive door, the jamb, the very wall.

"Claw marks," Hakkai said quietly, loosening his grip on Sanzo. "Stay here."

"Hakkai, wait—" But Hakkai was already advancing, alone, and Sanzo had no other choice but to concentrate on how to keep standing on his own. "Stubborn demon…"

Hakkai stopped at the door, studied the damage, tested the knob—locked—then clapped.

Nothing.

Sanzo risked a glance at the well. Goku had stopped working, attentive to the scene, ready to interfere. Hakkai half-turned, said something that Sanzo could not catch, and clapped again.

No answer.

Even so early in the morning, the sun was already harsh. Sanzo blinked sweat out of his eyes, a hand touching the bulk of his still stashed gun. His wound had reopened; he could feel blood oozing and dampening his loose borrowed pants. Back in the town, Hakkai had only been able to give him a boost of healing energy—enough to dull the pain and keep him going up and about for a few hours. Now his time had definitely run out.

Without any other option, he staggered the few meters towards the door. "_Seikan!_" he shouted, hating the desperation he could hear in his own voice. "_Open this fucking thing!_ _It's Genjo Sanzo! I'm back!_"

Hakkai came to him, shaking his head. "Sanzo, you shouldn't—" He was interrupted by the sound of bolts being unlocked. The door was cracked open and one dark eye squinted through the slit.

"Sanzo-sama?" someone whispered from inside. "Is that you? Buddha!"

Sanzo nodded jerkily, recognizing the man. "Chokei-san," he panted, batting away Hakkai's hands. "Where's the abbot?"

Chokei let go of the door, revealing a small, frightened group of robed men gathered behind him. "We don't know for sure. Seikan-sama is missing."

"What happened?" Hakkai asked. "Were you attacked?"

"Yes, attacked! By that—that _thing_!" Chokei spat.

"Thing?" Hakkai echoed, receiving several murmurs of assent from the group.

"Seikan-sama and I were in the library when we heard screaming," Chokei explained, his expression very frightened. "Then Soun-san came in running to tell us that the demon had fallen upon them in the woods—"

"I'd never seen anything like that," a young man offered in a calmer tone. "We were meditating in the woods, then we heard a low growling. Next thing I knew, Shingen-san lay headless by my side."

"Seikan-sama stormed out to hunt down the thing," Chokei went on. "He said he would kill it himself. But he didn't come back, and we—"

"Rooms," Sanzo interrupted. "For me and my team. Whatever you have to tell us can and will wait."

"You won't bring demons to our temple!" Chokei said, lifting his chin up. "Seikan-sama—"

"—is not here," Sanzo hissed. "Is probably dead. Has a lower rank than mine. Pick your choice." He swayed and Hakkai promptly supported him. "I vouch for my servants."

"Yeah, right," someone from Chokei's group responded. "As Seikan-sama vouched for his."

"Sanzo-sama, I can't allow your demons inside," Chokei said apologetically. "You're welcome, of course, but your demons… Sorry, your demons are _not_. I don't care if they're your servants, I don't care if they're your friends. That youkai lived in here for years, Seikan-sama practically raised it, and yet…"

Sanzo froze.

'That youkai.'

There was only one youkai allowed to live in these grounds.

He shielded his eyes and looked north. It was possible to see, against the greenness of the woods, the top of a thatched roof.

_That_ youkai.

It was Hakkai who provided him with a name: "Zenko."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Goku hovered in the dark hallway for a moment, walked hesitantly to the door, and peered into the kitchen. From his perch on a shelf, Hakuryu spared him a glance, then went back to watching Gojyo—who, totally naked, moaned and shuddered on the tiled floor.

"What are you doing, Gojyo?" Goku snarled, annoyed. "Where's Hakkai?"

Gojyo was unaware of anything except the abbot's bathtub that Hakkai and one of the monks had dragged from a storeroom—was trying to get it, judging by his position. No Hakkai in sight, though.

"You're going to end up hurt." Goku eyed critically the secured window and the scattered candles that lit the kitchen. "I mean, _more_ hurt. Not that I care."

Gojyo suddenly uncurled his body and with a mixture of revulsion, pity, and shame—shame mainly on behalf of Gojyo himself—Goku noted that the kappa sported an erection.

"Dude, you've got to be kidding me," Goku muttered, stepping into the kitchen. The amount of water in the tub explained both Gojyo's despair and Hakkai's absence: it was enough to disturb Gojyo, but insufficient for a thorough cleansing. And since the humans were afraid to leave the temple, and Sanzo was upstairs, unwell, and Goku had been in the yard caring for the horse, Hakkai had had no other choice but go to the well himself.

Goku blinked, stunned by the clarity of his thoughts. By their sheer _logic_.

"See Gojyo," he drawled, advancing. "I could help you. Oh, not that I would touch you, especially _now_. But I could go and fetch you water, so Hakkai would be here to give you anything you want. Water and … other things, I suppose." Lost in whatever feverish nightmare he was locked in, Gojyo did not answer. "But guess what?" Goku continued, raising his voice spitefully. "I _won't_. You almost killed Sanzo, you sorry fucker. You hurt Sanzo, and for that alone I should kill you."

It would be easy, Goku knew. In some kind of fitting, let-me-introduce-you-to-your-karma punishment, he might even kill Gojyo by holding his head under the shallow water. Kappa Drowned in a Bathtub. Had they still been in Chang'an, such an incident would make the front-page headlines. Goku laughed aloud, more than a little disconcerted. "Gods," he murmured, still chuckling, "that's awful!"

But still…

He looked down at the man at his feet. At his mercy.

It would take longer to kill Gojyo like that. Maybe hours. Gojyo was a water sprite, after all.

There was nothing wrong with 'longer,' was there?

Quite the contrary.

Also, 'longer' did not mean less easy…

…and 'easy' did not mean less enjoyable.

Goku shuddered when his own body began responding pleasurably to the images his mind conjured forth, to the endearing _possibilities _presented to him. The red hair would look like flowing blood under water. And Gojyo… Why, Gojyo might even _love _every minute of it!

He gasped when something hit him hard on the head. Blinking in confusion, Goku felt his smarting scalp with an unsteady hand. "What the fuck?"

Hakuryu was now poised on the edge of the tub, looking furious.

"Did you attack me?" Goku asked him, startled.

The dragon hissed and spread his wings further.

"You did attack me!" Goku's shocked anger was quickly replaced by more confusion. What was he doing crouched by Gojyo's side, pulling viciously at Gojyo's hair? He jumped to his feet, wiping his hands on his pants. "I—I didn't… I mean… I'm sorry!"

Hakuryu hissed again and Goku retreated. He did not stop until he was in the hallway.

"Goku, watch—"

The warning came too late; he bumped against someone and heard the unequivocal sound of liquid being spilled.

"Goku? What is it?"

Hakkai. Slightly out of breath and sounding very worried. Goku could not look him in the eye. He focused on the bucket Hakkai carried, instead, shifted his attention to the frowning middle-aged monk behind his teammate, then escaped to the pantry when he saw more humans heading their way.

The little windowless room was cluttered and smelled of spices and dried fruits. He stumbled through a few crates, accidentally tipped over something that shattered, and found himself in a corner, his back to the wall.

"…here, Hakkai-san," one of the monks in the hallway was saying. "These herbs will ease Gojyo's infection."

"Thank you, Soun-san, that's too kind," Hakkai replied. "Can you heat us some water, please?"

Of course the man would heat water for him; Hakkai was nothing but embodied politeness and he was very much in charge now. Earlier, Sanzo had drawn his gun and forced their admittance into the temple—and that was the last thing Sanzo had done for them all. Goku had tried to follow him when he was taken upstairs, only to be told, by Sanzo himself no less, to 'Piss Off.' Two minutes later, Hakkai was already talking and charming the monks out of their reserve, so baths, food, medicine, and clothes were offered to their guests. Or to most of their guests. Exhausted as he was, Goku had been ordered to take care of the horse before being allowed inside.

He covered his ears with his hands and slipped down to the floor. It was not enough to block the humans' noise or Hakkai's voice.

"Will Sanzo-sama eat this, Hakkai-san?"

"No, I don't think so. Let me finish here first, then I will see to Sanzo."

Yes, Gojyo would always come first to Hakkai. Always.

The sudden, agonizing cry made Goku freeze for a second. Then, over the deafening hammer of his own heart, he heard a familiar keening sound: Gojyo. Gojyo had screamed and Gojyo was now whimpering, as if water hurt him.

Maybe it did.

"Are—are you all right, Hakkai-san?" one of the humans stammered. Goku could picture them gathered pathetically at the kitchen door, all certainly very relieved to have soft-spoken Hakkai to guide them through this crisis, but yet too wary of Gojyo to help.

Goku sneered, suddenly feeling a kinship with those poor monks and their closed and bolted doors and windows. They were trying to prevent a demon from invading their sanctuary and taking their lives—a demon that no amount of prayers or exorcisms would drive away. He understood the situation only too well; had been fighting this same battle for years now. The only difference was that his demon wanted to get free and play outside.

He drew his knees up to his chest and started rocking back and forth. He needed Sanzo. He needed Sanzo so much that it was difficult to breathe. But Sanzo was ill and angry and disappointed with him and had told him to Piss Off.

"Take Gojyo upstairs, Hakkai-san, and put him in bed. I've picked some clean clothes…"

Clothes.

He had lost their clothes. Along with Sanzo's fan and Sanzo's ammunition. And Hakkai's letters. Hakkai liked to read those old letters of his, over and over. They're gone now, as well as that ridiculous comb of Gojyo's—the one that had belonged to his human mother.

Even Hakuryu was mad at him. With good reason.

He recoiled when light invaded his hidden place. He was not sure, but it seemed that some time had elapsed since Gojyo's bath.

"Hey," Hakkai called gently from the door, a paper lantern in his hands. "Your turn now."

"Turn?" Goku croaked, unsure.

"To take a bath?" And Hakkai smiled at him. "To get rid of those dirty clothes? I filled the bathtub for you."

Goku grunted and sank further in his corner.

"Aren't you hungry?" Hakkai insisted, placing the lantern on a crate. "Thirsty?"

Goku shook his head, the lump in his throat very painful. He would not cry, he could not cry… "How—how is Sanzo?" he rasped, looking at the shards on the floor. He had broken some kind of china bowl.

"Chokei-sama is with him and will help him in case he needs help."

"_You_ should be with him," Goku spat accusingly.

"Yes. But Gojyo needed me more. He's much calmer now, by the way; I don't suppose he will be, uh, excited to the point of biting anyone anymore."

Goku shrugged. The subject meant nothing to him—or so he wanted to believe. "You are going to heal Sanzo, aren't you?" he demanded, eyes still stubbornly on the shards. "You must heal him. Sanzo—Sanzo can't die."

"I'll try to help him to the best of my abilities," Hakkai whispered.

"That's not enough!" The bowl had been white. White, with an intricate blue drawing.

"No," Hakkai said. "But it's all any of us can do."

Goku swallowed hard, tears blurring his vision. He reeked of blood. There was blood crusted on his arms, on his chest, under his nails…

"Goku? Why don't you—"

"Leave me alone!" he cried, balling his fists. "Go back to Gojyo. It's _him_ you care about, so go back to _him_!"

Sanzo, Goku knew, would have pulled him to his feet and made it clear that such behavior was unacceptable. Sanzo would have put up barriers and safe limits for him. Hakkai was _no _Sanzo—so he just turned slowly and left without a word. Goku shrugged again, angrily wiped away a tear, and went back to his rocking.

The rhythm was comforting somehow, and he began humming—a disconnected song that soon enough morphed into Sanzo's name—though he was quite aware that such a childish protective spell was not enough to mute the voice that whispered away in the dark recesses of his soul.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_I called… _

Sanzo turned on the bed and punched a pillow, his face contorted in a grimace of pain.

_…I waited… _

As the pillow slipped to the floor, he turned again—this time to lie flat on his back. Daylight filtered through the slats of the bolted window, casting a bluish tinge on an otherwise darkened room.

_…you didn't come. _

He squeezed his eyes shut, though he knew he would not be able to sleep. Out of all the things that could haunt him, Gojyo's words, stammered in that peculiar mixture of shock and disbelief, were the most merciless. For they summarized his failure as his team leader.

_I called… _

Since the night the cursed kappa had tried to approach him, Sanzo had been pushing him to the edge, rejoicing in his suffering or simply dismissing it. Yet, Gojyo had been expecting help. The Sanzo-ikkou had learned to rely on each other, no matter what.

_…I waited… _

Gojyo had believed, as Sanzo himself would have, that Sanzo would be big enough to put their personal differences aside when one of them was at risk. Sanzo had proved both of them wrong.

_…you didn't come! _

"But I did!"Sanzo muttered, willing the desperate accusation to stop. Gods, he had tried to help. Though… He had been too angry to acknowledge anything but what he was prepared—had wanted—to see. Signals that things had gone inescapably, terriblyWrong had been there for him … if only he had not ignored them. Sex would not be on top of a tortured man's—and there was no other word to explain Gojyo's arm condition but torture—priorities list. Even if Gojyo had consented to sleep with the Colonel, his judgment would have been impaired.

So, as Gojyo…

_…called… _

...Sanzo had simply stood aside and…

_…waited… _

…for the Colonel to…

_…come… _

…rape him.

"It didn't happen like that," Sanzo hissed through gritted teeth. "You're just distorting the facts to beat yourself up. Gojyo _did _enjoythe Colonel's attention; you _saw_ how he responded to it! So it _did not _happen_ like that _and _you will stop such nonsense now_!"

In the sudden silence, Sanzo realized, much to his mortification, that he was not only sitting in a clumsy position that put pressure on his injury, but also that he had raised his voice to the point of shouting. Holding his breath, he tried to hear the others' reaction to his loss of control. It did not take long. There were rushed footfalls on the narrow wooden stairs that led to the first floor and soon someone was knocking at his door.

"Sanzo?" Hakkai's voice wafted in. "Sanzo, are you all right?"

Sanzo eased himself back onto the mattress with a nervous snort. Fuck, what would the world turn into without Hakkai-like types? Sanzo might have been attacked by the Changed youkai for all Hakkai knew, but yet his demon would still knock before barging into the room. It seemed that etiquette rules also applied when one was to intrude upon a potential murder.

"Sanzo? Sanzo, I'll—"

"Come in. I'm awake."

Hakkai pushed the door open, keeping a lantern over his head as he scanned the room. "I heard—sorry, did you call me?" he asked softly.

Sanzo adjusted his remaining pillow under his head, feeling ridiculously thankful. Of course Hakkai knew he had not been called; of course Hakkai had already intuited that Sanzo had simply lost it for a minute. But Hakkai, blessed be his polite ass, would still find a way to save him face. "I was dreaming," Sanzo lied in an even tone. "Goku pesters me even when I'm asleep. Where is he, by the way?"

"In the pantry." Hakkai advanced to the bed and placed his lantern on the floor. "Not doing what you're thinking, though. He's just … sitting in there." He reached out and touched Sanzo's forehead. "You're running a fever." Sanzo frowned and Hakkai withdrew his hand, adding after an awkward moment, "Your lunch is almost ready. I'll bring it for you."

"I'm not hungry," Sanzo said, studying his teammate with narrowed eyes. There was something strange about Hakkai, some sort of nervous energy that was completely out of character. "Why was Gojyo screaming?"

Hakkai hesitated, then sat on the edge of the bed. "Too long without water, I suppose. I bathed him—a true, long bath—and he became … well, overwhelmed. Therefore the screaming. He has calmed down now."

Sanzo willed his hammering heart to slow down to a less hurtful rhythm and acknowledged Hakkai's report with a grunt. Sooner or later, he would have to tell Hakkai about Gojyo's attempted suicide.

"He has developed an infection in that arm, but I will deal with that later," Hakkai went on and bent to collect the pillow from the floor.

"Later is a good idea," Sanzo commented, hating himself for his cowardice. But how was he going to tell Hakkai thathe had, finally, pushed Gojyo over the edge?

Hakkai never, ever would forgive him for the part he had played in the filthy story.

"Sanzo?"

"Uh?"

"I asked if you're sure about not eating. It's just rice soup. You'll feel better afterwards."

"I'll feel better if you bring me my cigarettes and my lighter," Sanzo growled with impatience. "That's my comfort food. Where did you put my clothes, anyway?"

"I asked one of the monks to wash them." Hakkai flashed him a half-smile before averting his attention to the eerie shadows the lantern cast on the wall. And there it was again, Sanzo noticed. The barely concealed edginess. Hakkai's fists were balled in the pillow he still held, his shoulders hunched as if he was under attack.

"Have you figured out what the hell is going on in this place?" Sanzo veered the conversation to the topic of their safety, his second best hunch for the cause of such uneasiness. "Aside from a missing abbot, a deranged demon on the loose, and a bunch of hysterical monks, that is?"

"There's nothing much to add, I'm afraid," Hakkai answered. "Zenko went Mad the very morning we left. He killed four monks in the woods, one of them that novice who helped me with Gojyo's arm during our first stay here. Do you remember him?" Sanzo did not even bother to try to remember the novice's face or name. "One of the monks escaped and alerted the others," Hakkai continued in a duller intonation, "and then the abbot stormed out to Zenko's house. According to Chokei-san, he stopped only to take a knife from the kitchen on his way out."

"A shining example of Buddhist conduct," Sanzo mocked, feeling around his bandaged hip. The pain there was becoming unbearable. "And we know how well this edifying tale ended."

Hakkai tilted his head to the ceiling and hummed a brief sound of agreement. "The abbot has not been seen since that morning," he commented without too much interest. "Zenko, on the other hand… Zenko has been coming at night. He yells death threats, bangs and claws at doors and windows… The monks are very frightened and won't leave the building. I had to go fetch water and fresh fruits from the orchard for them."

"How many?"

"Humans?" Hakkai glanced at Sanzo for confirmation. "Nine. No pilgrims or visitors, fortunately. Chokei-san suggested that we all could go to the village nearby, but my guess is that Zenko has already paid its inhabitants a visit. We're quite on our own."

"As always," Sanzo whispered, annoyed, turning to his left side. Damn this pain! "Hakkai, it's _one_ youkai."

"Yes. But, Sanzo, this youkai was raised here. He's in his territory."

"So?" Sanzo spat, folding his legs. The pain only worsened, so he extended them again. "It's still only _one_ fucking youkai!"

"There are rumors of a tunnel under the temple. Nobody can tell for sure, but if there _is_ a secret passage, Zenko will know it. That's why the monks barricaded themselves in this wing. Even with doors and windows bolted, Zenko may have access to the building. To _us_."

"Hakkai, almost every temple I've been to has a similar mythical secret passage! Or roaming spirits. Or a hidden treasure somewhere. Bored novices need something to blather about. Is there any proof that Zenko has been inside?"

"One of the monks heard noises coming from the library last night," Hakkai answered. "Like someone was rummaging through the scrolls and books."

"That could be anything," Sanzo huffed. "The wind. A monkey—that group we saw lives under the roof and no place is safe from them; all it takes is a half-open window. A bird. Anything. Including the man's imagination playing tricks on him. It's absurd to be holed up in this moldy dovecote, using lanterns at midday because of _one_ youkai."

"Let's do things their way for now," Hakkai begged, turning to face Sanzo. "We're their guests. We're also tired, sick, and you have to save your bullets."

"Hakkai, I'm not disputing—"

"We have water, food, beds to rest. Right now, that's all I care about. Later is a good idea, _ne_? You said so yourself. We'll see what we can do later." The desperately implied _Please_ hung between them.

"Right," Sanzo mumbled, surprised. "All right."

Hakkai averted his eye once more. Then, he tentatively brushed his fingertips against Sanzo's throbbing hip. "You're in pain."

"Bring me that cigarette and I'll be fine," Sanzo answered. And gasped, startled, when demonic energy began enveloping him. "Hakkai, what are you doing?" he asked, or tried to; Hakkai's _chi_ was pouring into him now, filling him, bubbling over from him, and his body was like an overflowing cup whose capacity was well past exceeded. Painful and exhilarating at the same time, to have his body taken like that. He fumbled for Hakkai—perhaps to shove him away, perhaps to bring him closer—but then the connection was abruptly cut, and Sanzo was left weak and wheezing, without any strength to move.

"I don't want you to get a scar," Hakkai slurred, and Sanzo risked a glance at him. Hakkai was half-lying on the bed, his head very near Sanzo's hips. "But I can't do much now. Sorry…"

"Doesn't matter," Sanzo panted.

"It does!"

Sanzo's left hand was like lead, but still he managed to comb his fingers through Hakkai's hair. It was slightly wet—if from sweat or a bath, Sanzo could not tell. He did not mind having Hakkai's sweat on his skin. He did not mind at all.

"The horse isn't safe outside," Hakkai said sleepily.

Sanzo closed his eyes. "There's little we can do about that," he breathed. He was so tired and now there was no pain. And no accusatory voices in his head. Also, Hakkai was here with him. He was safe. He could rest.

"I should go…" Hakkai trailed off, growing limper against Sanzo.

"…nowhere," Sanzo completed.

**o o o **

When Sanzo opened his eyes again he was immediately aware of three distinctive facts: some time had elapsed since he had fallen asleep, Hakkai was still snuggled at his side, and the atmosphere in the room had changed. It was now … hostile. He instinctively turned his head to the door and found a short figure standing there.

Goku.

"What is it?" Sanzo rasped, blinking to focus.

"What is it?" the boy repeated in a much louder voice. "What is _he_ doing in _your _bed?"

Sanzo pushed himself up a little, biting back the scathing rebuff he had ready to deliver. Goku was still wearing his—Hakkai's—dirty jacket and even in the less-than-satisfactory light provided by the lantern, his eyes were red and swollen, as if he had wept hard and for a long time.

"Whatever he left cooking on the stove is burned to a crisp," Goku spat. "It would be really funny if we had to sleep in the orchard because he set the temple on fire, don't you think?"

"Couldn't you keep an eye on the stove for him?" Sanzo asked, avoiding a confrontational tone. "Hakkai is—"

"Hakkai has no business _here_," Goku interrupted. "He only cares about Gojyo, so he should be with Gojyo."

Sanzo felt Hakkai's eyelashes brushing against his left hand. And then, whether by insight or some echo of their intimate sharing of energy, he knew that _Goku _was the source of Hakkai's tension. It seemed that there was more to the story than Goku's resentment towards Hakkai's behavior during their journey back to this place.

"Go take a bath, then go to sleep," Sanzo ordered. "I don't want you stomping around and disturbing the monks. They already have enough to be afraid of."

"Sleep _where_?" And Goku glowered at Hakkai's back as if he wanted to wrench the other youkai out of the bed.

"This place was a dormitory once," Sanzo replied impatiently. "Ask for a room. Find one yourself."

"You don't want me here but you want _him_?" Goku demanded in outraged disbelief. "Is that so?"

"Goku," Sanzo dropped his voice to a known, dangerous pitch. "Bath. Now."

"Fine, then!" Goku whirled and disappeared with such a speed that his strides could almost immediately be heard on the ground floor.

Sanzo sighed and looked at Hakkai—who had perked his head up and stared at the door.

"Just sitting in the pantry, you said?" Sanzo asked coldly.

"Yes," Hakkai murmured.

"Not a typical thing for him to do."

"No." Hakkai sat upright. "There's something you must know," he croaked. "Then you will be very angry at me." Sanzo met Hakkai's eye. There was fear written all over the thin face—Hakkai was afraid to tell him whatever he had allowed to happen to Goku as much as Sanzo was afraid to tell Hakkai about what he had allowed to be done to Gojyo. "Sanzo, I let him—"

"Later."

"But—"

"Later, Hakkai." Outside, a bird chirped merrily, reminding both men of the glorious summer day that went on beyond the bolted window. "Let's get very angry at each other later."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

He was in the charred field again and beneath a leaden sky darkness unfolded upon darkness. Gojyo looked over the familiar scenery with indifference before drifting back to his thoughts. There was no pain this time, or thirst, or cold, or fever-induced befuddlement—no excuses, therefore, for not facing the wreckage he had caused.

He had killed Hakkai—kind of.

He had killed Sanzo.

He had killed himself.

Single-handedly, he had destroyed the Sanzo-ikkou and ruined their land's best hope for peace. That he now continued on this plane, bereft of everything except his memories and his conscience while his body rotted in some unmarked grave, seemed a fitting punishment inflicted upon him by the gods he had betrayed.

An image of a tearful Goku gave him pause.

How ironic that he, who used to have nightmares about the inexplicable, inexcusable horror of Goku's long captivity, had ended up trapped in a similar situation! Though the prospect of spending eternity in this peculiar hell did not worry him. He was empty—way past the point in which despair, guilt, anger, or longing had any real meaning. He was … free. Would time have any meaning here? Perhaps when days turned into weeks and weeks into months (and into years and into centuries), perhaps then he would be able to react.

Or not.

As for Goku…

…Goku had been left alone in a world that had no place for him.

Gojyo raised his eyes to the blackened horizon. When his relationship with Sanzo had gone sour, he and Goku had adopted a tactic of mutual avoidance. Sanzo could do no wrong in Goku's eyes, despite the daily evidence otherwise, and Gojyo resented the assumptions and the accusing or disappointed glares the _saru _aimed only in his direction. Sanzo in a snit could be kind of amusing (sometimes) and a real turn on… If a man was in the right mood to appreciate mercilessness distilled and bottled in such a beautiful vial, that is. Goku, on the other hand… Goku had no art or subtlety either in his fury or in his suffering. Unless he was smiling or joking around or pestering them for food or attention, Goku was a painful sight to contemplate.

_Children should not have to deal with anything but being … children. _

Gojyo frowned.

Where had _that_ come from?

Goku was no child and Gojyo did not think of him as such. Hakkaiwas the one with the blatant parental instincts; Hakkai was the one who would noticeably grow mellow in proportion to Goku's capacity to drive the rest of them mad with his annoying behavior.

_I should not have let him kill those men. I should not have allowed him to kill— _

Gojyo froze.

What?

A stab of pain in his left arm made him grit his teeth. No. It was not possible. He was dead. He was numb. He would not feel anything anymore.

_Gods, how can I fix things with you, Goku? For you? _

Shit, but that _was_ unmistakable Hakkainese!

"Hakkai?" he called aloud, losing his composure as the beloved name filled the barren landscape. "Hakkai, is that you?"

Silence.

"Hakkai!"

_Gojyo?_ Only a soft, soft whisper.

And was it Gojyo's impression or had the landscape suddenly become less frightening? "Are—are you there?" he rasped. "Are you with me?"

_Yes._ _Always._

"And we're dead," Gojyo begged, desperate for confirmation. "We're both dead."

_Almost. _Warm, gentle amusement. _But not quite. _

"I don't understand." More pain in his arm and he let out a frustrated groan. "What the fuck is going on?"

_Look at me, Gojyo. _

"Where are you?" Gojyo took in his surroundings before focusing again on the horizon. It was brighter, as if…

…the sun was rising.

He stepped back, shaking his head at the light. "I don't need you, Sanzo," he growled in a panicked tone. "I don't want you. You didn't come when I needed you most, and now I'm dead anyway, and you're dead, so it doesn't matter. Fuck off!"

_Just look at me, Gojyo. _

"_Where _are you?" he screamed at Hakkai. "And tell _him _to leave me alone!"

For a moment, it seemed that he had managed to lock himself in his darkness again. But then light started intruding once more, and kept beating against him, bringing him pain and thirst and fear and anger and pain—

"Hakkai, please!" he whimpered. "Don't let him…"

_…don't let him near me! _he mutely finished his plea, knowing Hakkai would hear him. Because Hakkai always, always did, even when Gojyo was dead (or almost) and in hell (or not quite).

_It's all right, Gojyo. You're safe, my love._

"Safe?" Gojyo snarled.

There was pain. And thirst. And fear. And anger. And pain, pain, pain—

He was _not_ safe!

"Hakkai? Don't let _him_ hurt me anymore!"

_Come back to us, Gojyo. _

Pain. Thirst. Fear. Anger.

So much anger…

"I can't, Hakkai. I don't want to! Stop this! Tell him to stop!"

It was too late, though. The sun had risen in a conflagration. Gojyo moaned and watched as his blackened field turned into beautiful green. Blinking, he found himself staring into Hakkai's single eye. "Welcome back," his old friend murmured, smiling down at him.

Pain, thirst, fear, anger—everything was momentarily forgotten before that smile. Gojyo reached up and brushed his fingertips against Hakkai's forehead. He could feel the swollenness around the bullet injury under the dark hair.

Hakkai.

Real.

And with him.

Hakkai took hold of his wrist, helping him to sustain his touch, then hid his face in Gojyo's palm.

_Hakkai?_ Gojyo called, only to realize that their intimate connection had been severed. Whatever questions he had to ask—and there were several—would have to be voiced. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. And no ultimate Question took form. What was there to know?

There was pain. And thirst. And fear. And anger.

And Hakkai.

Real.

With him.

There was also a room. Bare, small, encapsulated in the typical drowsy silence of a summer afternoon. Sunlight filtered through the slits of a closed window, giving Hakkai's hair a coppery shine and warming Gojyo's extended arm. Sunlight…

Sunlight upon himself and Hakkai.

Gasping, Gojyo turned his head to the right.

Sanzo stared back at him from the door with an inscrutable expression on his face.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Sanzo, what are you doing up?" Hakkai murmured against Gojyo's hand before lowering it to the bed with infinite care. "You shouldn't strain—gods, what time is it? I think I fell asleep…"

"Bathroom," Sanzo blurted, trying to hide his shock over waking up to such a cozy scene. "I need the bathroom."

"Downstairs," Hakkai said, frowning a little. "Last door to your left. The kitchen will be at your right."

Sanzo turned quickly and fumbled his way down a narrow passageway. He had no recollection of going to _their_ room—damn, he had not even _asked _Hakkai where Gojyo (and therefore Hakkai himself) was lodged. He must have been sleepwalking. And the nightmare that had prompted this humiliation was still quite vivid: he had been trying to reach out for Gojyo—a dead Gojyo—at the bottom of a dark pit.

"Sanzo?" Hakkai called from behind him. "Can you manage the steps on your own? I have a chamber pot here, there's no need—"

"Piss off," Sanzo growled, still struggling to find his bearings. Fuck, where was his room again?

"Ask Goku to help you, then, " Hakkai insisted. "Don't put pressure on your injury."

His injury. Sanzo had forgotten about it. He was aware of an uncomfortable throbbing in his hip now that his physical condition had been brought back to him, but the crippling pain of the last few hours was mercifully gone. Even exhausted, even unwell himself, Hakkai had done an excellent job.

"Sanzo?" Hakkai called again, more forcefully. "Ask Goku—"

"Okay. I will. Go back to bed." The passageway continued past a wooden staircase he remembered vaguely—he had been carried up to his room almost unconscious—and a small group of monks was gathered there with a lantern and a pack of cards. Sanzo glared at them, annoyed by their silent perusal. He did not know which door led to his room, but asking was out of the question—bad enough that most likely these men had seen him searching like a drunken idiot for his youkai and then had heard Hakkai mentioning a chamber pot. To avoid their scrutiny, he decided to head to the ground floor.

The steps had to be negotiated slowly; with Hakkai fawning over Gojyo and Goku sulking somewhere unknown, Sanzo knew that he would wait a long while for rescue should he have a fall. To take his mind off the indignity of having literally fled from some anonymous men's eyes, he began cataloguing what he had already learned of this particular wing. Too many doors. Not enough windows. The wooden paneling on the walls and on the low ceiling was an invitation to disaster in case a candle or a lantern was knocked over—and the risk of a fire explained their scantiness.

No wonder Goku was so edgy; he would feel terribly trapped in here.

Where was Goku, by the way?

Angrily, Sanzo pushed guilt back. So, yes, he should have been more careful when handling his charge earlier. Goku always got clingier and dangerously unstable in the wake of his fugue episodes and Sanzo had not been able to calm him down yet. But what could one say to a demon hundreds of years old who acted like a jealous toddler because mommy shared bed with daddy? It was thatridiculous.

Almost as much as his going to Hakkai and Gojyo's room because of a bad dream.

He stopped at the foot of the stairs, giving his eyes time to grow accustomed to the dark. There was a single oil lamp burning on this floor. The monks were all upstairs, or so it seemed. One youkai… One single fucking youkai and their world was reduced to a coffin-like hiding place. But then, one youkai was more than enough to raise havoc. Had not a mere half-breed done so with Sanzo's life?

Deciding he could make use of the bathroom after all, Sanzo seized the lamp from its hook and advanced to the left, images of Zenko possessing Gojyo dancing before him. Buddha, but he would enjoy killing Zenko. A bullet in that fucker's balls, just because, and another between his eyes, not necessarily in a straightaway sequence, and everybody's immediate problem would be solved. He snorted, then froze, his fingers held in midair above the bathroom knob. His gun… He did not have it on him. It had been left in his room, wherever his room was, tucked, along with the scriptures, between the bed frame and the mattress. He remembered doing that as soon as he had been awake enough to think. How could he have wandered off without such vital parts of himself? He must go back upstairs and he must go back _now_!

He pushed the bathroom door open instead.

Unsurprisingly, the tiny room consisted of just a hole in the floor. But it was clean, or within the limits of what could be expected of a communal lavatory that catered to the needs of several trapped men. There were some buckets and pans with clean water aligned along the wall, indicating that Hakkai's efforts at the well had also been directed to this place. Only Hakkai would think of cleaning bathrooms in the middle of a crisis.

Hakkai…

…with Gojyo…

Hakkai and Gojyo.

They were beautiful together.

_Stop that! _screamed an outraged voice in the back of his mind. _Just stop that! _

He hung the lamp near the door with more strength than was necessary and went to relieve himself. While he was at it, he checked on his hip. It was sore and very sensitive, but there was a dry and brownish scab covering what only some hours ago had been a gaping wound. He twisted his neck to peer over his right shoulder and found the bullet exit similarly healed. He had been lucky, all things considered. If the bullet had broken his pelvis or—and that bitch of a goddess must be looking out for him—if the bullet had taken another trajectory and caught his spine on its way out, he would be in serious, serious trouble by now. Hakkai worked miracles, but at the same time… Hakkai did not work miracles.

As things had turned out… Here he was, holding his penis in a dark little room, loose borrowed pants pooled at his feet while embodied Death prowled and raged outside. No gun, no scriptures, no teammates—he was alone, naked, and defenseless.

And he had never felt so alive.

The impersonal grip he had on his member changed to a slow, teasing caress. He always became slightly stimulated after a session of Hakkai's _chi_.

Hakkai.

Hakkai and Gojyo…

_Stop!_

They _would _be beautiful together.

_How dare you? How dare you how dare how dare how— _

If he recast Hakkai in Zenko's role… If it had been Hakkai's smooth, long body possessing Gojyo's…

_No! Stop!_

He let out a moan. The forbidden images seemed even more alluring when mixed in with his own recent interactions with Hakkai in the boarding house and in his room upstairs. Damn, he was still able to feel Hakkai on himself—_—_Hakkai _in_ himself.

_Stop that! What are you doing? What— _

What had that bastard Zhou Jun called Hakkai again?

"My pretty one," Sanzo whispered. And there was a stir under his fingers.

_No! You will stop! You. Will. Stop. Stop stop stop— _

He did stop.

His body was too wrung out to do anything but show a vague interest right now.

He jerked his pants up, searched for and found a ladle, plunged it into the bigger bucket and spent a whole minute washing and scrubbing his hands. He paused when he noticed thin red lines on his palms. He had cut himself with his nails. "And who would've guessed?" he murmured derisively. "Goku and I have something in common after all."

He retraced his way to the stairs, hung his lamp on its hook, and was going to climb back up when he heard a faint noise.

"Goku?" he called, squinting in the direction of the kitchen.

No answer. But the noise… Yes, there it was. A muffled, tapping metallic sound.

Sanzo looked hesitantly at the shadows that waited for him upwards. And, with a curse, proceeded to the broader kitchen passage—he was _not _going to run back to Hakkai's bedroom like a frightened child. Not twice in a row.

The noise grew louder as he approached the kitchen and there was light in there, streaming down into the passageway from the door left ajar. It had to be Goku, he told himself. Goku, ransacking whatever the monks had in their cupboards.

Licking his lips, he pushed the door open.

Apart from the incongruous bathtub—surely one of Hakkai's deeds—there was nothing perceptively wrong. The window was still barricaded. The walls and the floor were stained, but that was to be expected in a place where generations had prepared their meals. Somebody had been cooking—somebody who had also lit several candles. The tapping sound came from whatever was boiling in a metal pot on the stove.

And the smell…

The smell was awful.

"Goku?" Sanzo raised his voice, annoyed, as he limped to the stove. His hip was starting to protest vehemently at his efforts. "You scolded Hakkai for leaving a pan unattended and now you do ten times worse? Put out these candles…" he trailed off when a single staring eye looked back at him. From within the pot.

A head.

A decapitated head.

The boiling water tossed it back and forth, causing it to hit the metal container—a bucket, not a pot—in which it had been dumped. That was what made the noise that had attracted him.

Heart thumping painfully, Sanzo turned to the bathtub.

From this new angle, he could see what lay inside it. A mangled man's corpse had been put there, both legs folded under it and a hand mockingly placed inside the open stomach, as if the thing was trying to eviscerate itself or hold together its own bowels. The other arm was missing.

Sanzo stepped back slowly, gagging. He tried to run when he gained access to the dark passageway, but his hip refused to support his weight further and he fell jarringly to his knees.

His gun… The scriptures… Hakkai…

He _had _to get to Hakkai!

He opened his mouth to call for Hakkai—and could only gasp when a pair of strong hands grabbed his shoulders from behind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Sanzo?" Goku repeated, not understanding why Sanzo kept fighting his attempts to hoist him up. "Sanzo, what is it?" The incoherent, frightened gurgle he got for an answer was enough to make him let go of Sanzo's shoulders as if his hands had been burned. Still on the floor, Sanzo pressed himself against the hallway wall—Goku could see his thin frame outlined by the light that seeped from the kitchen. Human eyes, he knew, would not be so keen. "It's me, Sanzo," he tried again. "Are you hurt? I mean, _more_ hurt?"

The silence was broken only by Sanzo's labored breathing and an insistent metallic sound coming from behind them. Goku looked over his shoulder, torn. The kitchen. Should he go there for a candle? But how could he leave Sanzo, who might have fallen and aggravated his injuries? Though, if that was the case, he _must _go to fetch aid right away. Growling in frustration, Goku pulled his hair out of his face, the smell and the feel of blood on his hands reawakening in him the insatiable, torturous hunger that no amount of food would ever satiate.

(_So good!_)

"No…" Goku moaned desperately. _He_ was there, waiting for a slip, for an opening, for the smallest doubt so _he_ could take over and take away everything Goku had, everything Goku was.

_He_ was also growing bold, for _he_ never surfaced like that when Sanzo was around. Sanzo, who was hurt and whose time on this earth was already so very short… How long until Goku lost him, and therefore himself, forever? "Sanzo?" he whimpered. _Need you! Help me!_ But the plea came out as a pathetic non-stop chanting to the rhythm of that strange metallic sound: "Sanzo, Sanzo, Sanzo, Sanzo—"

(_Why are you calling out to him? He's only a human, he's…_)

"Sanzo, Sanzo, Sanzo—"

(…_already dying. Even if he's not hurt, he's dying. His body is weak, he is weak, he can't be your…_)

"Sanzo, Sanzo, Sanzo—"

(_…salvation, he can't, because he's dying. I am your best chance, I know what you need. __It's…_)

"Sanzo, Sanzo, Sanzo—"

(_…to be free, to be free at last, free, and…_)

"Sanzo, Sanzo, Sanzo—"

(_…should die, die, die…_)

_No!_

"Sanzo, Sanz—_help_!" Goku managed to break his stupor, frantic. "I need—Sanzo, I need…"

(_…to be free…_)

"Goku, _stop that_," Sanzo's voice intruded, cold and forceful, and _he _was pushed back into _his_ murky depths, immediately rendered powerless. Goku could only stare in awe at the fragile man on the floor.

"Sanzo?" he stuttered. "What—what should I do? I don't know what I should do." _If I lose you—when I lose you…_ "Sanzo?"

"Go get Hakkai," Sanzo rasped, shifting further into the shadows. "Now."

Goku blinked, aghast. Hakkai? What for? Goku needed _Sanzo_—Sanzo was the only thing Goku ever had a need for. "Can't leave you…" he trailed off. "_Need_ you, Sanzo." It calmed him to say the name aloud—his sincerest prayer, his mantra—and he could feel the urge to intone it aloud building up again.

Sanzo let out a vicious curse and began struggling to get up. Goku stupidly watched his efforts for a while—the fumbling hands, the way Sanzo tried to spare his hip even when he had to put weight on it—and there was something so intrinsically _wrong_ about Sanzo in darkness and in pain that Goku had to reach out for him.

"Sanzo, I—" _am sorry, and afraid, need you, need you, need you— _

"Hello? Sanzo-sama, are you there?"

Goku recoiled, hissing.

"Sanzo-sama? Hello?"

Humans. A robed group appeared at the end of the passageway carrying lanterns.

"Sanzo-sama? Are you—Buddha!"

Goku scowled at the intruders, his eyes immediately adapting to the light. He basked in the fear he could sense—could _taste_—coming from them, and, with a wicked grin, raised his hands in their direction. Warm, wet, beautiful red glistened, running through his fingers, painting his nails, elongating them entrancingly before dripping onto the floor to the rhythm of the metallic noise that filled the silence. Goku chuckled at the collective gasp he caused and looked down at Sanzo to share the joke with him.

Sanzo also had red imprints all over his oversized shirt.

And Sanzo was not laughing.

In fact, Sanzo wore the same expression Goku could see written on the others' faces: horror.

"What is going on?" intruded a familiar voice. "Sanzo?"

Hakkai.

And Hakkai was already elbowing the group of humans aside and making his way towards Sanzo, not even pausing to consider the Terrible Bloodied Sight that Son Goku presented. "Sanzo, are you hurt?" Hakkai asked. "Is this blood yours?"

Sanzo shook his head impatiently and extended his hand. Hakkai pulled him up with a quick, practiced movement to spare his injury from more unnecessary strain.

"In the kitchen," Sanzo blurted out, jerking his arm free from Hakkai's grasp. He staggered a little, but managed to keep vertical on his own. Even then, Goku noticed jealously, Hakkai did not back away. "I'm okay, Hakkai," Sanzo added, increasing Goku's discomfort. Why did Sanzo never have reassuring words for him, too?

Instead of losing more time with questions, Hakkai strode past Goku and went to the kitchen. There was an endless moment of waiting, in which Goku was quite aware of several pairs of staring eyes, Sanzo's included, on him. Then, the metallic sound finally stopped and in the following silence, Hakkai reemerged in the passageway. He was pale, even in the insufficient light of the lanterns, and he looked over at Goku with shocked surprise.

"_What_?" Goku yelled, at the end of his tether. "What is it?"

"A man was killed," Hakkai answered curtly. "His head was left to boil on the stove."

Goku burst into hysterical laughter when the image of a menu offering 'head soup' as the speciality of the house popped in his mind. A closer glance at his teammates, though, and all his hilarity was suddenly gone. "Do you think—do you think it was _me_?" he asked Hakkai, feeling quite offended.

Hakkai did not say anything. But, judging by his somber face, it was obvious he did.

"Sanzo?" Goku turned to his human. "Sanzo, my hands—"

"Your hands are still dripping blood, demon!" one of the nameless monks said angrily. And that was the cue for the others to join in and launch accusations.

"You brought these demons to our temple, Sanzo-sama!" a short young man boomed. "You said they were safe to have around! Now, one of us has been murdered!"

"You yourself were attacked!" another shrieked. "By your own youkai! How can you say that you'll protect us? How can you say that we're safe with your group?"

"Seikan-sama was right all along," a third said. Goku knew this one by name; had played cards with him during their previous stay in the temple. "These things should be killed or locked up forever! Wasn't this demon already locked up somewhere?"

Definitely, Goku did not like the course this whole situation was taking. "Sanzo?" he whined, not caring to tone down the childish appeal over the angry accusations flung at him. "Sanzo, I'm—"

"Shut up," Sanzo ordered him, his voice sounding eerily calm now.

"But… Sanzo…"

"Go upstairs and wait there for me, Goku." And Sanzo narrowed his eyes over Goku's head to Hakkai—a mute message that Hakkai, apparently, had no problem interpreting.

"Your pet demon can't go upstairs!" one of the monks objected, incensed. "Sanzo-sama, it just killed—"

Goku did not care to hear accusations any longer. Did not care to stay. Sanzo had accepted Hakkai's help but had denied his own. And now Sanzo was listening to the monks' babbling, sending Hakkai signs, not interested at all in what Goku might have to say. Choking back tears, he darted to the stairs, pushing the humans out of his way without minding his strength.

_These things should be killed_, the ruthless words taunted him. _Or locked up forever. _

Locked up forever…

Fuck, they would lock him up if they had the chance. He knew they would. Humans were like this; cowards when alone, bold and cruel to no end when gathered in a mob. They would lock him up. And Sanzo might not even interfere. Sanzo had looked at him with hatred. No, it was much, much worse than that.

Sanzo was _afraid_ of him.

He gained access to the landing on the first floor in panic, growling at the back of his throat. No windows. No daylight. There were only doors—closed doors, locked doors—that only led to more dark rooms. He was trapped.

The lanky figure standing at the end of the passageway to his left was the only familiar sight in this maze. Goku strode to it because he had no one else and nowhere to go. And because red was beautiful—red was perfect under that single gas lamp. He halted in front of Gojyo, mesmerized by his hair.

"What's up with those monks?" Gojyo's voice was dull, uninterested.

Goku stared blankly at him, his sluggish brain having some trouble processing Gojyo's question. The traitorous bastard wanted to know what was going on. Now, wasn't _that _priceless? Wasn't that _cute_? How _could_ Gojyo not know, when everything, every single fucking little bad thing that had happened to them was Gojyo's fault?

"They think I killed one of them," Goku drawled, anger overcoming fear and lending him some sort of coherence again. "See?" He displayed his stained hands. "I'm a dangerous, treacherous, murderous beast. Just like you." Gojyo stared back, face impassive. "Did you enjoy shooting Sanzo?" Goku demanded viciously. "Did you like making him bleed?" Gojyo detached himself from the doorframe where he was propped and disappeared into the room.

For a few seconds, Goku merely gaped at the empty space where Gojyo had been, too stunned to react. Then anger returned full force—anger tinted now with a good deal of outrage—and he stormed after the kappa, not ready to give up their confrontation.

Sunlight filtered through the bent slats of the closed window, highlighting random details in the room: a pillow on the unmade bed, the tip of an upturned boot under it. Gojyo was bent over a table in a corner, mixing something into a cup.

"I asked you a question!" Goku snarled, balling his hands. "I want an answer!"

"Don't scream, Goku," Gojyo muttered, scratching slightly at the bandages on his bad arm. Hakkai had taken good care of him, Goku noticed. Of course. Gojyo was at the top of Hakkai's list of priorities. A list on which Goku himself had no place.

"Are you going to give me orders, too?" he bristled. "Are you going to tell me what to do, like Hakkai? Bring us water, Goku," he imitated in a shrill voice. "Take care of the horse, Goku. Get out of the way, Goku. Who the hell does he think he is? Who the hell do you think _you _are?"

"Go find another place to scream, then," Gojyo said in the same flat tone he had used so far. "I'm not in the mood to hear shit."

"No, you never are," Goku chuckled, blinking to clear his blurry eyes. "But you certainly are always in the mood to speak and do shit. It wasn't enough for you to play the smart ass and push Sanzo away from us, was it? We were fine together, but you had to go and destroy _everything_."

No denial, no awkward explanations. Gojyo did not even have a lie for him.

"We should be on the road," Goku continued, growing angrier with each word, "that's where we _should _be, on the road, together, friends battling crazy demons and saving the world. That's where we were _meant_ to be. Instead, we're caged in this fucking place because of you, and Sanzo is hurt because of you, and nothing will be like before ever fucking again because of you!"

"Goku, when—"

"Don't you see, you son of a bitch?" he screamed. "You tried to kill Sanzo! And now I will have to fucking kill you!"

"—was the last time you slept?" Gojyo finished, not even pausing to consider Goku's threat.

Disconcerted, Goku stopped ranting. Something trickled down his face and he had to bring his torn hands up to wipe it away. Gods, had he been crying all the while? No wonder Gojyo had not taken the warning about his impending demise seriously. "Slept?" he slurred. "Last night. No, this morning… I think. I sat by Sanzo in that wagon tent and I slept; Sanzo was there, so _he_ did shut up then. _He_ doesn't like it when Sanzo is near. Now _he_ keeps saying things in my head, even when Sanzo…"

"Here, drink this." Gojyo came to him and offered the cup. "It'll help."

"Help?"

He needed help, but not Gojyo's. "I'm going to kill you, make no mistake," he snarled, backing up a step.

"Even _he_ must be very tired by now," Gojyo said, still advancing. "Right?"

Goku nodded and slowly, reluctantly accepted the china cup. Whatever was in there… It tasted strange. "You don't believe me?" he asked, sipping the beverage. "About me having to kill you?" Gojyo was sitting on the bed now, his gaze lost on some random point between Goku and the window. "Humans are nothing to me," Goku went on. He threw the cup into Gojyo's line of sight, shattering it. "A half-human even _less_. Ask Hakkai what I did; he was there. Ask Hakkai, Gojyo."

"Go to sleep, Goku." The sad, softly spoken advice was barely audible.

"Sleep where?" Goku spat. "_Where?_ Sanzo doesn't want me with him." _Sanzo doesn't want me! _"He wants _Hakkai_. Hakkai is sleeping with him."

Gojyo stilled completely, something indefinable flickering on his face. Then, he grabbed the pillow and lay down. Goku snorted, satisfied for having delivered, even if by chance, at least one verbal punch.

"You're welcome to stay here, if you wish," Gojyo said softly as he turned over in the bed, his bad arm cradled against his torso.

"What?" Goku squeaked. "I—I can't stay. I… They… They want to lock me up again." To say that aloud made the possibility even more real. Shit, but he was a complete fool! He had taken some sort of narcotic when he knew his enemies would come for him at any given minute! How was he going to fight them? Especially when he was already so, so tired, and his hands… "My hands hurt so much!"

Gojyo sighed. "Come here, _saru_."

Goku eyed the clean sheets then looked at his bloodied hands. "But I'm dirty…"

"So am I."

Goku opened his mouth to protest. Gojyo was not 'dirty.' Hakkai had bathed him and found him clothes. Hakkai had even arranged a room and medicine for him, which was much, much more than Goku had gotten for all his pains.

He flexed his hands.

"I am so tired!" he complained, because it was the only thing he knew for sure right now.

Gojyo beckoned from the bed and Goku went mechanically to him. There was room for him to sit, then to lie, Gojyo guiding him with slight touches. It was awkward, and embarrassing, but Goku was as grateful for the contact as he was for the respite. He settled down eventually. Gojyo radiated heat—a feverish heat that felt very good against Goku's chilled skin.

Noise could still be heard downstairs.

For a bunch of Buddhist monks, these guys fussed a lot. And Sanzo… If Sanzo decided that it was time for him to go back to his chains…

"I can't fight Sanzo," Goku whispered. "If he decides I have to go… I won't be able to fight. And they'll lock me up."

"They'll have to go through me first. Go to sleep."

The promise was ridiculous. Gojyo was maimed and could barely stand on his own, never mind fight a lynch mob. But the oddest thing… The oddest thing was that Goku believed him.

Laughing brokenly, Goku huddled up and closed his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Sanzo?" Hakkai rapped briefly on the door left ajar and pushed it open. "I found you another…" He hesitated, noticing that Sanzo was already dressed. "…shirt."

Sanzo zipped up his jeans and smoothed his black turtleneck. "Where the hell did you put my robe?" he asked without turning. "I couldn't find it anywhere."

"I was going to sew it," Hakkai answered. "Are those _already_ dry?"

"I also couldn't find Goku," Sanzo went on, carefully bending over the bed to retrieve his gun. "Have you seen him?"

Hakkai stepped into the room and closed the door, blocking it with his body. "Why?" he demanded in a hushed tone. "What are you going to do?"

"What the fuck do you think I'm going to do?" Sanzo checked the gun cylinder and quirked his eyebrows significantly at Hakkai. "Follow the monks' advice and put him down?"

"It wasn't him," Hakkai said in a low voice.

"Hakkai, I'm quite—"

"Please, hear me out, Sanzo. Please. There is almost no blood in the kitchen. Almost none. Which means the abbot was murdered and dismembered elsewhere. Also, Seikan-san's corpse was already showing signs of decay—the crime didn't happen just a couple of hours ago. Goku may be too confused to offer an explanation about the trail of blood he left outside the kitchen, but he is _not_ the abbot's killer."

"Have you finished?" Sanzo drawled.

"It wasn't Goku," Hakkai repeated, the shirt he had brought Sanzo now balled tightly in his fists. "It _wasn't_."

"Hakkai, I _know_ that," Sanzo replied, between annoyed and amused. "Fuck, give me some credit, will you? I recognized the abbot's head in the bucket—at least when I could take a breath and think. The blood you saw in the passageway—and on me—is most likely _Goku's_. He must have been playing with his nails again."

Hakkai squinted at Sanzo, ready to keep arguing Goku's defense. Then, acknowledging that there was no point to be made, he sagged against the door. "He's with Gojyo," he murmured. "Asleep. Hakuryu is watching over them now; I don't want any of those humans near that room."

Sanzo tucked his gun into his waistband. "Do you think the monks will try something?"

"You heard them talking," Hakkai murmured, eyeing the shadows that the lantern projected on the floor. It was growing dark outside; soon enough, they would not have even the comfort of daylight sipping into the temple through every nook and cranny it could find. "No amount of logic, no reasoning will convince them of Goku's innocence. They believe the abbot came back from whatever hideout he'd managed to find for himself only to be eviscerated—" He pressed a hand against his mouth and leaned forward, dry retching.

"Hakkai?"

"I'm—I'm fine. It's—I had to dispose of that … that … cooked … thing. The smell … and the—the tongue…" he trailed off as the horrific image flared again, bringing in its wake more than a few hideous memories of his Killing Time.

"Let it out," Sanzo murmured.

"No, I—" Hakkai half-buried his face into the balled shirt, taking deep breaths until the urge to vomit slowly receded. The gentle, fresh breeze that started ruffling his hair also helped. Surprised, he jerked his head up.

Sanzo was stretched as high as he could, trying to prop the window open.

"Sanzo, you shouldn't—"

"Why not? If Zenko can leave us such a lovely gift, it's pretty clear that he can come and go at will. Bolted windows or doors won't make any difference. Sit down or you're going to fall."

Hakkai staggered to Sanzo's bed and flopped down onto it. "I was going to say that you shouldn't strain your injury," he added in an exhausted murmur.

"Stop fussing, you idiot," Sanzo said angrily. Then, in the same tone: "How is your head? Your eyesight?"

Hakkai looked at the creamy afternoon sky. "I'm fine."

"Sure. Of course you are." Sanzo came to the bed, collected his lighter and pack of cigarettes, and went back to the window. "Luckily, whoever washed my clothes had the common sense to take _these _out of my pocket first."

"I asked the novice to be careful," Hakkai said. "And I also asked him to make sure your clothes were dry before bringing them back to—"

"Chokei is the one the others listen to, right?" Sanzo interrupted brusquely. "The one in charge. Did he threaten us after I came upstairs?"

Hakkai looked at him, mildly surprised. "They all did."

"_Chokei_, Hakkai," Sanzo emphasized, a cigarette now clamped between his teeth. "Did Chokei issue any threats personally?"

Hakkai stared blankly at the bluish flame Sanzo's lighter produced. "Nothing outright," he said, "but yes, he did—mainly by grunting in agreement when the cries for vengeance started. There's so much hatred in here now, Sanzo, so much hatred..." He shook his head, at a loss for words. "Don't let Goku wander alone, will you? These monks may want us out of here, but they want Goku dead. In normal circumstances, I wouldn't be worried—Goku does know how to take care of himself. In normal circumstances."

Sanzo nodded, exhaling his first lungful of smoke. "What if _they_ left?" he suggested in a lower tone.

"They?" Hakkai repeated, surprised. "Sanzo, they are afraid to walk to the well for water! Besides, where would they go?"

"To hell for all I care."

"Sanzo, we—"

"No, wait, hear me out. They know this area well and they can have our wagon and horse. Their chances—"

"—would be non-existent with Zenko out there," Hakkai finished, unimpressed.

"Do you mean their chances are better _here_? I don't think so. The body in the kitchen was a warning: Zenko has upped his hand, now that he has us to play with."

"We can't send those men to their deaths!"

"Fuck, Hakkai, we won't be able to baby-sit them. What is more, and worse, they will cause us trouble if they stay here. Are you willing to protect strangers at the expense of Goku's safety? I know I am not."

"We could—we could move to another wing," Hakkai proposed slowly. "So they would not have to deal with us any longer."

"Absolutely not. The storerooms are in this wing; if we leave it we'll have to depend on their goodwill for food, medicine, and lamp oil."

"Yes, but… We could, for instance, exchange food for water or medicine for fresh fruits from the orchard—"

"Do you mean that you would give Gojyo something that our enemies concocted?" Sanzo teased. "Honestly, Hakkai!"

Hakkai sagged in on himself, his attention once more on the floor. Sanzo came to him, sat by his side and offered him his cigarette. "We can't be responsible for everyone, Hakkai," he said reasonably. "And Zenko may even let them go, who knows?"

Hakkai accepted the cigarette. "Do you believe that?"

"Since when does what I believe make any difference?"

"It does, you know," Hakkai whispered, raising the cigarette to his lips. "It makes all the difference in the world to us." _Your team. Your demons._

Us.

He turned to meet Sanzo's eyes. Sanzo's face was expressionless—the aloof, I-don't-give-a-shit mask firmly in place—but a muscle jumped almost imperceptibly in his jaw. "You shouldn't wear wet clothes," Hakkai observed conversationally, inhaling from the cigarette before handing it back. He unfolded on his lap the oversized shirt he had brought. "This one may be ugly, but it won't press your injur—"

"Have you ever slept with Gojyo?" Sanzo interrupted.

Hakkai froze for a moment, then smoothed the rough shirt mechanically. "No," he muttered, sustaining Sanzo's piercing stare. "Gojyo sees me as a friend. A brother. That's all."

"But you want to."

"Sanzo, there are several things in my life that I want and that I know I will never get." And admitting _that_ aloud just made things all the more hopeless. "Gojyo doesn't need me as his lover, so I'll settle for being whatever he needs me to be."

"Is it true what the Colonel said, Hakkai? Have you ever considered the idea of sleeping with me to get Gojyo?"

Hakkai felt his face grow hot, but did not avert his eye. "I may have considered the possibility during the last month, yes," he rasped in an eerie voice. "Which, as you well know, is a long shot from actually acting on it." He gasped when Sanzo reached up to brush his hair from his forehead. "It won't happen, though." And he leaned into the touch. "Because _you _also don't need me as your lover."

"I suppose I know what I need, but thanks for informing me anyway." Sanzo dropped his hand. "What about you? What do _you_ need?"

"Right now? Rest. Peace." Hakkai swallowed dry. "To know that everything will be all right."

"_That_ I can't promise you. Sorry."

Loud voices wafted up from downstairs, breaking the charged silence in the room.

"It seems our hosts are arguing again." Sanzo put out the cigarette against the bed frame and stood, squaring his shoulders. "I'll go down and talk to them. And try to convince Chokei-san that what he really should do now is get out of here as soon as possible."

"Sanzo, we could—"

"No, we could _not_. There's no other alternative."

"But still… Gods, Sanzo!" Hakkai shook his head. "Look at what you're about to do!"

"I prefer not to," Sanzo said softly as he limped to the door. "The image would be too embarrassing."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Gojyo floundered in a limbo made of pain—pain that caused him to sweat, to writhe and to grit his teeth to keep the screams from escaping. The pressure was quickly becoming unbearable though, and with it grew his agitation: he did not want to become an irrational thing howling in agony. Even low demons should retain some sort of dignity.

He would not scream.

He would not…

He would…

Suddenly, there was a warm weight pressing down on his back as possessive hands cupped his buttocks. "No," he snarled/begged, trying to free himself. "Don't…"

"Why don't you call Sanzo?" the Colonel suggested mellifluously, one of his fingers already digging into Gojyo's body. "I want you to call him."

The scream erupted then and on and on it went, even when Gojyo's mind started telling him that he was still in the room Hakkai had put him in, that he was safe, and that he should shut up, shut up _now_, because he had just had a bad dream. He raised his good hand, intending to muffle himself—only to realize that he was not the one screaming. Nothing but short gasps came out of his clogged throat.

"Hakkai?" he panted.

No soothing voice. No soothing touches.

No Hakkai.

Just screams.

"…the fuck?" Gojyo stared blankly at the candle someone had lit on the small table in the corner. What time was it? Was it night already?

What was going on?

"Hakkai?" He tried to raise his voice to be heard over the noise, struggling to get out of the bed.

The screams turned suddenly into convulsive, hysterical laughter, and Gojyo froze, his eyes very wide in the badly lit room. He knew that laughter—in fact, he had heard it several times during the fiasco that had triggered the past few days' events: Zenko. Zenko had gone Mad, according to Hakkai, and that was why they had all ended up barricaded in this place.

Shakily, taking deep breaths, Gojyo disentangled his legs from the blanket and scrabbled out of the bed. He went to the bolted window and threw it open. The moon was high and bright in a cloudless sky, giving him a good view of the backyard. No Zenko to be seen, though; the noise came from the orchard.

"You're dead, motherfucker," Gojyo murmured. "You just don't know that yet."

Another bout of spastic laughter, and Gojyo stepped back, wincing. It would be easier to hold to his anger towards Zenko if certain undertones he had once detected in that grating laughter had died along with the bastard's mind. As it was… Despite the apparent oblivion the Madness brought, Gojyo could, just like before, hear Zenko's frustration and despair underneath his boisterous exuberance.

"It seems that even _this _was denied to you, eh, pal?" he quietly asked the night. "Well, you told me yourself that life isn't, and never will be, fair."

Laughter went on for a long while then morphed into a long howl.

Gojyo stumbled to the table, mixed and gulped another dose of Hakkai's medicine then slumped onto the bed, his back to the headboard.

How odd that, even with the acute throbbing in his arm, he could still feel painful stabs wherever the Colonel had touched him. Zenko had been far rougher when taking his body, and Zenko had been the first after a long drought caused by the messy situation with Sanzo, but Gojyo had not even _considered_ the discomfort Zenko had pettily caused him. The Colonel, on the other hand, had penetrated him much more carefully—had even bothered to stretch—

_Don't think of that. Of _him_. Just don't. Not now. _

Gods, he could use a cigarette.

He spared the table another glance. His headband, confiscated in that park along with his pack and lighter, lay neatly folded there—_he_ had given it back. Maybe his other belongings had similarly been returned? He should ask Hakkai.

Where was Hakkai, anyway?

He craned his head slightly and squinted at the floor. The shards of the cup Goku had broken were gone. The logical explanation was that Hakkai had come—likely to leave Gojyo the candle and the blanket—and had picked them up. That was the sort of thing only Hakkai would think of doing. Sanzo would not care, and Goku was … Goku.

Gojyo averted his eyes to the starry sky.

The Goku who had come to this room earlier had very little resemblance to the jovial kid Gojyo loved to tease. And Goku—that strange, dark, mad version of his Goku—had said that Hakkai and Sanzo were sleeping together.

_Better not to think of this, either. Otherwise... _

Otherwise what?

What could he do or say or think or pray?

Was anything left that Sanzo could not take from him?

Gojyo fisted his bad hand, reveling in the surge of agony. There were no words to express his sense of betrayal, but pain—pain translated it beautifully. He slumped down, still staring at the night as the howling beast outside drew closer.

_Forget it. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters any more. _

He had said that to _him_, right? He was sure he had said that to _him _upon hearing the news of Hakkai's 'demise.'

Hakkai was quite alive.

And Hakkai was not here.

Hakkai was with Sanzo.

"Guess what, Colonel?" Gojyo chuckled, biting back the sob that threatened to break out. "I lied to you. Because there _are _things that still _do_ matter."

He closed his eyes and willed himself to unclench his fists. To keep very, very quiet and listen to Zenko's almost rhythmic noise. Soon enough, with the help of whatever drug Hakkai had managed to find him, he was drifting in and out of consciousness. A myriad of disconnected images and phrases fluttered through his mind; feelings of urgency and failure surged and ebbed away in discontinuous waves. Time slowed down and accelerated only to slow down again, screaming and laughing at him with the promise of long, solitary years ahead. With the promise of Nothing.

_You are nothing. _

And it was good to be Nothing, wasn't it?

It was … peaceful.

**o o o**

He woke with a start at the sound of distant, excited voices. There was also light—sunlight—everywhere.

And he was no longer alone in his room.

"Zenko?" Gojyo blurted out. "What—"

Framed by the purest blue sky, the man at the window turned his head briefly, then focused again on whatever scene was taking place in the courtyard below.

"What are _you_ doing in here?" Gojyo hissed, sitting up hurriedly and ignoring the nausea the abrupt move triggered.

"Brought you breakfast," Sanzo answered coldly. "Eat."

Only then did Gojyo notice the tray on his bed. "Get out of my room, you fucker!"

Sanzo did not bother with a second glance in his direction. "When was the last time you ate?" The question, amazingly, was asked in a civil tone. "Can you even remember?"

"As if that were any of your fucking business!" Gojyo mouthed back, aware he sounded ridiculously childish. "As if it _is_!"

"It _is _my business, Gojyo. I already have one youkai with an eating disorder on my team; I don't need another."

"I'm not a member of your precious team, asshole. Not anymore. You threw me out, remember?"

Sanzo shrugged. "Maybe you like having Hakkai fawning over you and cooing you into eating. Is that it?"

"Don't bring Hakkai into this!" Gojyo narrowed his eyes in warning. But Sanzo was not even looking at him and the gesture was wasted. "He has _nothing_ to do with anything!"

"Doesn't he?" Sanzo shook a cigarette from his pack and lit it with an elegant gesture. "He worries about you; he has been neglecting himself to treat you. He needs rest and some cooperation from us all. So, no, I don't think you can dismiss Hakkai's role so easily."

"Get. Out."

"Or what?" Sanzo did turn then, quirking an eyebrow. "Can you even _stand up_ to make me leave?"

Gojyo just stared rancorously, his nostrils flaring with pathetic craving at the smoke Sanzo expelled. How dare this prick invade his room and accuse him of throwing a self-pity party at Hakkai's expense? Damn the fake monk and the high horse he rode! And the saddest, most demoralizing thing was that Gojyo doubted he would be able to kick the bastard out of his room. If he tried, he knew he would end up on the floor.

He would not give Sanzo the satisfaction.

Sanzo sustained the stare evenly before going back to watching the courtyard. "Eat, Gojyo."

Gojyo gritted his teeth and nodded wildly to himself. "All right, motherfucker, you want me to eat?" he spat. "All right. I will eat. The faster I heal, the faster _I_ can leave." Anger was a painful knot in his throat; his good hand shook so much that he almost could not hold the bowl. "Now, you hear me out, asshole." He shoved rice into his mouth, washed it down with tea, shoved in more rice. He could be eating paper, for all he could taste. "I don't want you coming in here anymore. I don't want you near me anymore. Understood?"

Sanzo did not deign to respond this time.

Gojyo continued to stuff himself, glaring daggers at Sanzo's back. Rice. Tea. Something viscous—he looked down briefly to the peeled slices of a fruit he did not care to identify and guzzled them down.

He knew he should stop, especially when blurry images of the Colonel offering him breakfast began to pop up in his mind, causing him to gag. He _must_ stop or he would vomit in front of Sanzo. And _that_, definitely,would crush whatever was left of his—

"The answer is no."

Gojyo was so intent on his punishing feeding game that he had some difficulty taking in Sanzo's words. He tilted his head to one side, wiping his mouth on his good hand. Was Sanzo telling him he would not stay away? Why not? He had Hakkai already, so why not? "It's not a request, asshole. I don't want you—"

"That night, the ambush night," Sanzo interrupted, sounding hollow, distant. "You waited for me and asked me if you had misunderstood everything between us. The answer is no."

Gojyo gaped, stunned. Sanzo poked his head through the window and pitched his voice to his most direct, non-nonsense tone: "Goku, come back inside! Now!"

Gojyo blinked at him, closed his mouth, shook his head, still not believing. "Why do you think I would be interested in hearing that now?" he managed to whisper in the following silence.

"Because it's the truth." Sanzo then turned and left the room without a second glance at the baffled kappa.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Sanzo stopped a few doors from Gojyo's room, willing his eyes to readapt to the darkness; then, cigarette still stuck in his mouth, went to the wooden staircase that led to the ground floor. The steps had to be negotiated slowly, carefully, his hip protesting the effort all the while. Goku was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, totally oblivious to the sour-faced group of humans gathering behind him. One of the monks, Sanzo noticed with a muttered curse, even held a knife.

"Sanzo?" Goku whined, raising haunted eyes to his. "Why can't I—"

Sanzo grabbed the boy by his shoulders and force-marched him into the hallway to the left and into the first lit storeroom whose door was left open. Both froze in place at the sight of an elderly man bagging incense burners and other small antiques.

"Ah, Sanzo-sama?" the man stuttered, breaking the stunned silence. "I was—I'm just trying to save some of our rarer items. We can't leave them behind. They're irreplaceable, you know."

"Get out," Sanzo said, voice thick with disgust.

The man bowed and scurried away without relinquishing his plunder, overturning an untapped oil barrel in his haste to flee.

Goku chortled nervously and pointed at the door. "Did you see that, Sanzo? Did you see? That guy was stealing! _Stealing_, Sanzo! Did you see?"

Barely controlling his irritation, Sanzo smashed his unfinished cigarette against the wall.

"Sanzo? They steal from their own temple and then they say we can't be here. It's funny, _ne_? Sanzo? Don't you think it's funny?"

Sanzo bit down the urge to punch Goku and went to right the barrel instead. Not that there was much oil to be saved now.

"I think it's funny." Goku approached him, splashing oil about with a failing grin. "Fuck, humans make no sense. _Ne_, Sanzo? Humans make no sense at all."

"Yes, I suppose I don't make sense to you," Sanzo retorted, scanning the room for more barrels or similar containers. There were none. Was it possible that they would not have more lamp oil stored _anywhere_? Chokei had said something about having to be careful with the oil supply, but still…

"I don't mean _you_, Sanzo," Goku said hastily. "When I talk about humans, I don't put you on the same—"

"Did I or did I not tell you to not wander alone?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, you did. But Hakkai—ouch!" Goku jumped backwards when Sanzo slapped his wringing hands. "What did you do that for? I wasn't…" he trailed off and shook his head. "Sorry, I won't do it again. Promise, I won't!" And he hid his hands in the pockets of his—Hakkai's—jacket. "No need to pull out my nails, Sanzo. Please, don't pull out my nails, I'll behave—"

"Goku," Sanzo said through gritted teeth, "_shut up_." Goku mumbled another apology and lowered his head. Sanzo sighed, uncomfortable, tired of seeing fear in his demons—fear directed at him. "I'm not asking you to be careful for the sake of hearing my own voice," he murmured. "These men are royally pissed at you and you're not paying attention, are you? Fuck, you're not a child!" Though, he had to admit, sometimes it was very hard to dispel the illusion. More so now, with a chastised Goku looking down and shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"I don't care about them," Goku answered mutinously. "And I'm not paying attention because they're a bunch of cowards. Angry humans—angry human _monks_—are like spitting kittens."

"Nice to know that you can shrug off danger with cute comparisons. After all, you're invincible—I mean, you've never needed a human monk's help at all, have you?" It was a low blow and Sanzo knew it; Goku flinched as if he had been hit again. "These men aren't 'spitting kittens,' Goku. They will try to kill you, if given the chance."

"They're only humans!" Goku insisted and risked a glance up. "Besides, you won't let them do anything to me. You _won't_, Sanzo."

Sanzo scowled at him, then shrugged. No use pressing the issue or trying to reason—Goku was not functioning in his right mind (or whatever passed as 'normal' in his case), so it would be simpler and less stressful to just not let him out of his sight. The monks would be gone by midmorning, and then his team would finally have privacy to start picking up its broken pieces. What time was it anyway? It was hard to keep track in this vault. He pointed at the lantern the thief had abandoned. "Come on, take that and let's get out of here." He stepped around the oil puddle and headed to the door. "What about Hakkai?"

"Hakkai?" Goku repeated behind him. "What about him? Why are you always bringing his name up?"

"_You_ cited his name just one minute ago as a possible excuse for disobeying me," Sanzo clarified, struggling for patience. He halted in the hallway, waiting for Goku to catch up with him.

"Ah, that? Last night, while you were talking to Fat Baldy—"

"Be _careful_, Goku!" Sanzo seized the lantern from Goku's hands. "Fuck, do you want to start a fire?"

"Sorry! My hands are—"

"Mauled to the point where you can't feel them anymore?" Sanzo suggested with a huff of exasperation.

"No! No, I mean… I'm sorry, Sanzo! I swear I won't do that again. Never again, Sanzo, I swear—"

"Fat Baldy as in Chokei-san?"

Goku nodded vigorously and wrinkled his nose. "Yeah. I couldn't sleep because of all the screaming, and then I needed to piss, so I came down. Hakkai was drinking tea with the rest of the humans—promising them he was going to escort them to the next village if Fat Bald—if _Chokei _decided to do the trip. Which he did, _ne_? Hakkai even asked me to take care of Gojyo while he's gone. Now, if Hakkai can go out and take a stroll… Why can't I? I mean… These humans are pathetic, as is Zenko. There's no danger at all, Sanzo! Sanzo? What's wrong?"

Sanzo resumed walking. "Go upstairs," he ordered in a flat voice. "Stay there with Gojyo until I call you."

"_Why_?" Goku exploded. "There's no danger, I _told _you that! I hate this place; I don't want to be holed up in here! Hakkai is in the yard, in the sun, there's no danger! You're just being an—" He gasped, whatever name he was going to call Sanzo dying unsaid on his lips.

"Even you," Sanzo whispered. "Even _you_ are questioning me now."

"Sanzo, I—"

Sanzo strode away without another word, feeling ridiculously hurt. And angry enough to the point of considering disbanding his team for good. He would tolerate Gojyo's mouthing off at him—could understand Gojyo mouthing off at him—but Goku? And Hakkai…

Buddha, how _dare_ Hakkai go behind his back like that!

He passed by the monks still gathered at the foot of the stairs, relinquished the lantern into an anonymous hand, and headed to the backdoor. It was where Chokei accosted him.

"Sanzo-sama, we've already loaded the wagon. No need to go outside—"

"You mean my servant loaded the wagon for you, right?" Sanzo scoffed acidly. "That was an interesting scene to watch from above, Chokei-san—truly inspiring. You all have been very helpful. Now, if you don't mind me asking… Why did you lock this door if Hakkai is still out there?"

Chokei sniffed superiorly and offered him the key. "I told your demon to knock when he has finished filling our water bottles—"

"Since when do _you_ tell 'my demon' anything?" Sanzo unlocked and opened the door with a vicious jerk. "You want water? Fetch it yourself." He tuned out Chokei's attempts at justification and squinted into the sunlight. The svelte figure bent at the well paradoxically calmed him and stoked his fury to a new level. "If I find this fucking thing locked when I come back," he warned, cutting Chokei off in mid-sentence, "I will shoot it down—along with whoever happens to be behind it. Got it?"

"Sanzo-sama, you don't understand the motives…"

Oh, he didn't.

He really didn't.

He went to the well at a measured pace, trying to ignore his complaining hip. Hakkai was intent on the sunlit water, such a dreamy expression on his face that Sanzo had to stop for a moment, certain that he had already gone through this very scene before.

Hakkai looked up then, startled, his expression growing darker. More determined.

Yes, both of them had already done this.

"We need to talk," Sanzo snarled. But not in the open like this; there would be curious eyes peering from the temple. Sanzo advanced, reached down, and hauled Hakkai up. "Come on."

"Don't strain your injury," Hakkai muttered, releasing the bucket and meekly complying with Sanzo's tugs and pushes in the direction of the orchard. He did not move from the tree where Sanzo parked him with a shove.

"What _the fuck_ do you think you're doing, Hakkai?"

Hakkai lifted his chin slightly, the scabbed gash on his left temple very vivid among several other bruises and cuts—and suddenly Sanzo had to refrain himself. Otherwise he would jump on Hakkai and try to shake some sense into him; shake him like he had done in that cell. When Hakkai was so ill that Sanzo thought he would die in his arms.

"I take it Goku already told you I'm going to escort the monks to the next village," Hakkai said softly.

Sanzo snorted. "Yes, Goku told me. And no, you are not going. But that is beside the point. So, let me ask you this again: What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"We can't condemn these men to death just because they're in the wrong place at the wrong time, Sanzo. Just because they're inconveniencing us."

"We're not going to split the team again," Sanzo said tightly. "Not over this."

"'This' may mean nine lives, Sanzo."

"I said no."

Hakkai averted his gaze to the festive peach trees. "I'll be gone just for a couple of hours. I'll take Hakuryu with me—"

"Oh, is that so? I see you have everything planned. Well, if you're attacked and injured, or if you feel unwell, you certainly know that we won't be able to go after you. You will be on your own. If you get yourself killed, we won't even know where to look for your body."

"I'll be careful," Hakkai rasped. "I know that a lot depends—"

"Of course Zenko may not be the only Changed youkai out there," Sanzo continued, his unsparing sarcasm at its best. "But, then again, what do I know? May I offer a suggestion? Since you have left Goku instructions regarding Gojyo's arm, maybe you should write a note about the cleanest and easiest way of chopping it off. You know, in case it starts rotting and Goku and I have to perform surgery."

Hakkai cringed. "Gojyo is fighting the infection quite well at the moment," he said after a while, his voice hollow. "I'm going to give him a bath and change his bandages as soon as I'm back. And, if he's strong enough, I'll use my _chi_ on him tonight." He raised his good eye to Sanzo, the false one hidden under monocle and hair. "Did you manage to convince him to eat something?"

"Funny, isn't it?" Sanzo drawled, noticing Hakkai's hesitation and exploiting it. "That you're putting strangers' welfare before his? On our way to this place you wouldn't even leave his side."

"There's no risk to him at the moment. You're here for him; Goku is here. And Gojyo _is _a fighter, he will be all right…" Hakkai trailed off. He slumped against the tree and slid to the ground, sitting with his legs near his body. "He—he will be all right."

There was something so raw in him, so broken, that Sanzo relented a little. "I don't get it," he said in a friendlier tone, crouching awkwardly in front of the youkai. "I just don't, Hakkai. Why are you so worried about _them_? They despise you. As far as they're concerned, you're risking your life to get them water… But they still despise you. Why do you think they are worth your life?"

"Sanzo, do you think these men will climb into that wagon if they don't have some kind of guaranty? They won't. No matter what you say, they simply won't. Besides… I'm not doing this for them."

Sanzo just stared, waiting for an explication.

Hakkai bit his lower lip, then looked again at the peach trees. "I met Goku on my way up to the Anthill by chance," he started slowly. "And Goku was … strange. Confused and very aggressive." He adjusted his monocle, then rested his shaking hands on his knees. "And I—I was lost, almost blind, and desperate to get to Gojyo… I knew Gojyo needed me. I was having … visions, there's no other way to describe what I shared with him during those long hours. I was having visions of death."

Sanzo raised his eyebrows, surprised. "What?"

"I had the first in Captain Wu Tai's office. That's why I overreacted and ruined what you had achieved with him." Hakkai closed his eyes. "Be that as it may, I was not in a fit state to cater to Goku's needs." He let out a mirthless, choked laugh. "Oh, damn it, who am I trying to fool? I was not in a fit state to truly _care_ about Goku's needs."

"Do you think you could have dealt with a Goku in full demonic mode?" Sanzo asked in a neutral voice.

Hakkai huddled further into himself. "Honestly? No. But that isn't an excuse, is it? I failed him. I failed him completely. We rely on each other to keep us all on track; when one of us can't discern right from wrong, we expect the others to come forth and set the boundaries." He took a deep breath and fixed his single eye on Sanzo. "It must be like that, Sanzo; otherwise we wouldn't be different from the ones we're trying to defeat. And though certain instances are subjective and open to interpretation, others simply aren't. Can't be."

"Hakkai—"

"I chose Gojyo over Goku on that road, Sanzo. I did nothing as Goku killed and mutilated the corpses of the human soldiers we happened to meet. So, I failed—no, I _betrayed_ him. And he knows that. He may not be able to name his feelings, he may not understand his feelings himself; but his animosity towards me goes back to the moment I stepped aside and let him murder two men in the cruelest way you can possibly imagine. And I did that because it was the quicker and easier way for me to get to Gojyo."

"Hakkai," Sanzo said coarsely, the memory of his own inaction in that narrow passage of the fortress washing away any anger he might have felt at Hakkai's admittance, "unlike Goku, I'm not constantly teetering on the edge of sanity. It's part of my job to make hard decisions. It's part of my job to accept the consequences for them. If these monks die because of me, then so be it. You're not the voice of my conscience."

"I know that. But… If I let you send these men away like this… Then I will have failed you as I failed Goku."

"No. The circumstances are different."

"Perhaps. But one day… One day you may sit in the dark and think of the fourteen year-old novice who cooked you your favorite food every single day during your first stay here. Or of the seventy-eight year-old elder who liked to tell dirty jokes before praying for enlightenment. I don't want you to have their deaths on your conscience, Sanzo."

"You don't want their deaths on my conscience or, after what happened on that road with Goku, you're trying to appease yours?"

Hakkai sustained Sanzo's stare evenly. "Allow me to answer your question with one of my own. Do you really need to sacrifice these men to prove that you do care about Goku, Sanzo?"

Sanzo stood from his crouch, unable to ignore the pain in his hip any longer. He shielded his eyes with one hand, unhurriedly taking in the beauty of the day.

"You will be back before the sun goes down," he commanded at last, his heart thudding. He Glared at Hakkai. "Promise me."

Hakkai nodded. And smiled up to him. "It's a date."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"I'm sorry," Goku kept apologizing as he ran up the narrow wooden staircase. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm—" His right foot caught on the edge of one step and he fell to his knees. "—sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry, Sanzo." The sound of the beloved name trapped along with him just intensified his fear and he huddled against the wall, hiding his face in his hands. "Don't be mad at me," he pleaded softly. "Please, Sanzo, don't be mad at me."

(_Too late for that, isn't it? He's already pissed._)

Oh gods, if only _he _would shut up!

Goku tilted his head up to the dim light that leaked down from the first floor. Maybe he should go to Gojyo's room, as Sanzo had ordered; Gojyo's apathy had, surprisingly, subdued _his _ravings the previous afternoon. Not that the merciful silence in his soul had lasted: Zenko had shattered it with his screams and hysterical laughter at nightfall. And Goku had not been ready then to deal with the memories that such a familiar, disturbing combination brought forth; he had fled to the ground floor, to Sanzo and to doors that actually led Outside. That had not helped, though. The doors had been locked and neither Sanzo, busy with Baldy-san, nor Hakkai, secretly planning a trip with the rest of the insignificant monks, had been aware of his presence downstairs. Only _he _had kept Goku company as the night wore on and Zenko howled his despair to the indifferent skies. Without any other alternative, Goku had escaped into the yard at dawn break, following Hakkai as his teammate went to prepare the wagon for the humans' departure.

Now Sanzo was furious with him. No wonder. Goku had disobeyed his orders. Had even mouthed off to him…

"He will forgive me," Goku whispered coarsely. "Sanzo will forgive me. Sanzo—"

(_—is a truly forgiving type. Yeah. Sure._)

"You know nothing, asshole. _Nothing_."

(_A pissed Sanzo isn't sunshine and blossoming fields. Ask Gojyo. He learned that the hard way._)

"I don't want to hear one more word from you," Goku choked angrily. "I don't—"

(_Why do you allow such a mean human to dictate how you'll live your life?_)

"Shut up! Just shut your trap already!"

(_Why are you sitting in this Dark Place while there's a beautiful summer day to enjoy?_)

Goku pressed his palms against his forehead. Only to feel the cold metal of his limiter.

(_Your collar. The symbol that shows the whole world that you're tamed._)

"No! It—"

(_—castrates you—_)

"—helps me to think," Goku stuttered, ready to plunge his nails into something—something breakable. Something that would offer him satisfying noises and smells while it was torn apart. "Gods, please, I _must_ think!"

He froze when his eyelashes brushed against his right fingers and an image of Hakkai—a dangerous, bloodthirsty Hakkai that none of them had ever really met—suddenly took form in his mind. What would it be like to embrace darkness so willingly? To lose yourself in it to the point where you could rip your own eyes out?

What would it be like to accept … _him_?

The sudden, pleasurable jolt in his groin made Goku reach down and grab his tented pants. "Holy shit! Ouch!"

_He _started laughing.

"Stop this," Goku moaned, shocked. "I don't—oh _fuck_! Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

(_You would love to shove that into Sanzo's mouth, wouldn't you?_)

"_What?_ No!"

(_To show him that you're still man enough. Despite your collar._)

"I don't know what—damn, stop that!"

(_He would be yours, then. Sanzo. Totally yours. Nobody else's. And that's what you've always wanted, right?_)

"No," Goku keened. "That's—that's … disgusting. Sanzo is—"

(_—only human and weak and ready to be taken—_)

"Stop it! How dare you? I don't want to hear this filth any more and Sanzo will kill you when he hears what you're saying, Sanzo will—"

(_—bend over for us._)

Goku hissed in outraged mortification, but there was little he could do to control his body. He _had_ to touch himself without the hindrance of his pants. He _had _to feel skin on skin. He undid his fly.

(_No limiter getting in the way now, hmm? And it's so good!_)

"Yes … good."

(_You want this. You love this. And you want Sanzo._)

"Yes—no! It's not like—I _need_ Sanzo…"

(_Then take him. Make him ours._)

Goku would not go after Sanzo. Goku knew that _he_ knew that Goku would not go after Sanzo. But _he_ also knew that to jerk off to thoughts of raping Sanzo was almost as soul-destroying to Goku as perpetrating the act itself.

"I'm sorry," Goku began apologizing incoherently again as he pumped his erection. "I'm sorry, Sanzo, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"Buddha!"

Goku blinked in the direction of the new voice. His tears made it difficult to focus on the two monks frozen on the staircase a few steps below.

"What—what are you doing, demon?" One of the men demanded, clinging to a lantern and his companion in obvious horror. "What—gods, don't you have respect for anything? This is a holy place!"

Goku scrunched his eyes shut, intensifying his strokes. "Get out," he rasped. "Get out now. Or _he_ will make me kill you."

The humans did not wait for another warning. Hazily, Goku listened to their rushed flight to the ground floor and the following cacophony of shouted words. The humans had gone to vent their righteous indignation to someone—probably Sanzo.

Sanzo…

Goku stilled his hands.

He would not go to Sanzo, of course he _would not_. But…

What if Sanzo decided to come to him?

(_Why, let him come to us…_)

"No…"

(_…let us come…_)

"…no…"

(_…right in Sanzo's mouth._)

"I told you," Goku growled savagely, "to _shut up_!" And he buried his nails into his groin.

Agonizing pain exploded, threatening to wipe out any shred of rational thought. Goku teetered on the edge of this abysm for a moment, waiting for _him_ to be dragged in first before allowing himself to sink.

_Sanzo, I'm sorry. So sorry! _

**o o o**

Reality started intruding again after an indefinite time. He was still on the dark staircase curled up around himself, his knees to his chest, an unbearable throbbing between his legs. His left hip was pressed uncomfortably against the wooden step on which he had been sitting. And there was silence. Both in his soul and downstairs.

Slowly, carefully, Goku straightened his back. He took several deep breaths, then expanded his senses. The monks … were gone. There was only one human in the building now. A human whose footfalls he knew only too well.

Fear made him cringe, but no sordid suggestions were whispered in his head this time.

He sighed raggedly and without checking the extent of the damage he had inflicted upon his lower body, pulled his pants up, not bothering to fasten them. It hurt. A lot. Still, pain was a low price to pay if it granted him the chance to think on his own.

"Will I have to cut my dick off to get rid of you, motherfucker?" he murmured in a broken tone. "Because I will. Like Hakkai, I will do what's necessary."

He jumped at the creak of a door being opened on the ground floor. A short pause, then a similar sound drifted up again. It seemed that Sanzo was doing some scouting or searching in the storerooms for something specific. Whatever it was, it would not keep his human there for long. Goku could detect the unsteadiness in the normally smooth gait—Sanzo was clearly favoring his right side and soon would come up to rest.

His heart pounding, Goku fumbled for support and got to his feet. He did not want to have Sanzo here with him, in this place. Not when his hands were still slick with blood, sweat, and other fluids. How could he look into Sanzo's eyes and explain this mess? And even if no explanation were asked of him… How could he look into Sanzo's eyes at all?

He just wanted to disappear.

He glanced up, a part of his mind yearning for Gojyo's quiet room, then staggered down to the darker shadows of the kitchen area.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Sanzo slammed the storeroom door and cast a look in the direction of the staircase. Facing an angry Gojyo while his own guilt raged was not an attractive prospect, but there was not much more he could do to postpone going up. He had assured Hakkai that he would see to Gojyo's lunch—and it was already way past noon. Besides, he was tired. He hurt. He needed to take the weight off of his hip, so he needed his bed.

He tightened his grip on the box with the few small essentials he had scavenged for his team and limped towards the kitchen area. No daylight leaked in from the shutters in this particular hallway; there was only a single lantern left flickering from a hook. He took a deep breath, refusing to acknowledge his churning stomach or look over his shoulder when he passed by the dark kitchen. He was safe here; he had his gun, he had the scriptures, and he had Goku within reach of his voice. He was safe.

And quite embarrassed for being so jumpy.

Muttering a curse, he patted his pockets for the key to the pantry. Hakkai had locked it after rearranging every single item in there—an overzealous precaution that Sanzo might have deemed ridiculous if he himself had not come up with the possibility of food poisoning.

He shoved the door open and grabbed the lantern from the hook before stepping inside. The sacks of rice still lay with their sealed openings upside down, like Hakkai had left them; the fruits in the bowl still formed a pyramid with the same big unripe orange stuck in the third tier from the top. Sanzo went to inspect Gojyo's medicine and had to squint to see the short strand of hair that Hakkai had left on the stopper. Nobody had been here and touched their things.

Trying to avoid thinking of Hakkai on his own outside, Sanzo grabbed some fruits at random and dropped them into the box he carried—those would have to do for lunch because he certainly would not cook. Not with his throbbing hip and not on _that _stove. On his way back to the staircase, he spared the dark kitchen a longer look. What had Hakkai done with Seikan's body? It had been taken to the yard, Sanzo knew that much, and disposed of, but he had not been present to oversee the actual procedures. And since Goku was falling apart and the monks would not leave the building, Hakkai must have buried the abbot by himself. Undoubtedly very properly, as Hakkai always did everything.

Buddha, if something happened to Hakkai…

_Then you'll move on_, he told himself, his chin tilted angrily up. _Hakkai is a grown-up demon and has made his decision. It's his problem. Besides, you're going to lose him anyway. _ _When Gojyo leaves, you're going to lose him._

It should not matter.

But it did.

Demeaning and pathetic, to care like that.

About a youkai, no less.

Seikan had been right: he had allowed his defenses to be breached.

He halted at the foot of the stairs and considered the task ahead. He would need one free hand to help propel himself upstairs and compensate for his bad hip. And though it would be wiser to keep the lantern and send Goku to fetch the box containing their lunch later, Sanzo extinguished and discarded the lantern. People and things had developed a tendency to disappear on him during the last few days and he was not going to relinquish his newly found toothbrushes and shaving razors.

He started negotiating the steps by fumbling along the paneled wall. Slowly. Carefully. One step at a time, and only when he was absolutely sure that his right leg would support his weight. The items in the box clinked against each other producing an uncanny accompaniment for his ragged breathing.

A crashing noise came from the ground floor and Sanzo froze completely, listening frantically to the darkness. Then, blinking sweat out of his blind eyes, he ordered his legs to move.

Slowly.

Carefully.

One step at a time.

It was hard to keep his body under such tight control, but he was used to mastering this particular beast. To allow himself to panic, to try to run, would mean a fall and probably cost his life if Zenko was in the temple.

He reached the light of the first floor after what seemed an eternity and took a shooting position with his back against the wall, the box still tucked under his left arm.

"What is it?"

Sanzo turned, startled. Gojyo stood at the hallway, bathed by the sun that spilled out of his room. And it was impossible for Sanzo not to notice and mutely praise the beauty of that red hair in such a complimentary light. There was also pathos in the figure: Gojyo wore a large shirt and had his bad arm tucked inside it; with the left sleeve hanging disturbingly empty in the air it was like he had, indeed, lost that arm.

And he was thin. Too thin.

"Sanzo?"

"I heard something," Sanzo said, averting his attention back to the staircase. Gojyo distracted him in the most absurd ways. "Tell Goku we might have trouble."

"Where is he?"

"I told him to come up and stay with you," Sanzo answered with impatience as he lowered his box to the floor. "He must be—"

"I haven't seen him since yesterday. He's not here."

Sanzo glared at Gojyo, incredulous. "You've got to be kidding me."

Gojyo made a rude, dismissive gesture with his good hand. "Yeah, I'm 'kidding' you," he snarled. "Come and see for yourself, asshole. Don't forget to look under my bed."

Sanzo did not bother to answer that. He studied the long row of doors to his left, turned to the larger hallway where the Sanzo-ikkou was quartered, then called aloud for Goku.

Nothing.

No sound from the ground floor, either.

"I told you so."

Sanzo ignored Gojyo's inane, spiteful comment and stashed his gun away. All right, so Goku had disobeyed him. Again. Out of fright, certainly; Goku was not given to sulks like a certain kappa. And a confused, self-harming Goku would not seek refuge in this airless rabbit warren. The noise he had heard… What if a deranged demon had actually fled _from_ the building instead of entering it?

He pointed to the box at his feet, aware of Gojyo's eyes on him. "There is some fruit in there. Eat."

"What the fuck is going on?" Gojyo demanded, advancing. "Where's Hakkai?"

Sanzo limped with all the dignity he could muster to the nearest lamp. Gods, how could anyone live without electricity? It was bearable on the road and cozy in the occasional small inn; but positively nerve wracking in a building this size during a crisis.

"I asked you a question," Gojyo growled, invading Sanzo's personal space.

"Two, actually," Sanzo mocked as he seized the lamp. Despite his guilty conscience, he still felt a perverse pleasure in baiting Gojyo out of his puny mind. It was always so, so easy. "You asked me _two_ questions." 

"Don't mess with me, motherfucker," Gojyo hissed. "I won't take any more shit from you, so you'd better—"

"Answer to Question Number One: Goku has flipped and I believe he just left the temple. Answer to Question Number Two: Gone. Now get out of my way."

"_Gone_? What do you mean, _gone_? Hakkai—"

"—decided that the monks needed company, so he's escorting them to the next village." Pointedly, Sanzo skirted around Gojyo and proceeded to the staircase.

Slowly.

Carefully.

One step at a time.

That was how he started to negotiate his descent.

"And you _let_ him?" Gojyo demanded angrily, following him down.

"No, I didn't 'let' him," Sanzo retorted through gritted teeth. "I tried to convince him to stay."

"It seems you did a wonderful job at that!"

"He didn't listen to me," Sanzo mumbled, annoyed. He did not want Gojyo with him, witnessing his struggle to perform such a mundane exercise as climbing down a flight of steps. "And I'm not old enough to be his father to begin with. Now piss off."

One step at a time.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Fuck, but his hip _hurt_.

"And where do _you_ think you're going?" Gojyo sneered in that insolent tone of his that always made Sanzo want to hit him. Hit him hard.

"To search for Goku."

"Right. Because you're old enough to be _his_ father," Gojyo taunted in between noisy gulps for air. Sanzo whirled around, almost losing his footing, ready to physically assault the _baka_. Then he saw it.

Blood.

A pool of blood, drying a few steps above.

"Goku," he summarized, unaware that he had said the name aloud.

_Your demon is sitting on the stairs, with its dick out, jerking off_, that pair of monks had complained earlier. _Do something, Sanzo-sama! _Sanzo had found the impropriety slightly amusing then, crediting it to Goku's erratic behavior. And he intended to do 'something': he would sit Goku down as soon as he could and make him talk. Make him explain. And do some explaining of his own, in case his teenaged demon did not know that masturbation should be a private issue.

Since when did jerking off imply spilled blood?

"How do you know it was him?"

Sanzo looked blankly at Gojyo—who stared back with veiled eyes.

"The blood," Gojyo insisted. "How do you know it's Goku's deed?"

"It is," Sanzo said tightly, resuming his descent. "Both the deed and the blood are his."

Still dogging Sanzo downstairs, Gojyo blurted out a "What's wrong with him?" which sounded pretty much like a _What have you done to him?_

"Something happened in that cursed town," Sanzo said with bad grace. "He has been spinning for a while."

They were on the ground floor now and Sanzo lifted the lamp over his head to inspect the shadows. Zenko _could_ be hidden somewhere, after all.

"Goku!" Gojyo cried suddenly, causing Sanzo to Glare at him. The kappa just shrugged awkwardly. "Let the _saru_ have some fresh air, then," he said, still in a less-than-polite voice. "Zenko will be no match for him if they stumble across each other."

"I'm not worried about your friend Zenko, Gojyo," Sanzo responded coldly, trying to find a trail of blood that would lead him to his charge. There was none he could see in the insufficient light. "The longer Goku stays alone the more scared he will become. The more Goku gets scared the more dangerous he gets—to himself."

"I don't think—"

"No, you never do," Sanzo interrupted, knowing by long practice that Gojyo hated having his words purposefully distorted and used to humiliate him. "If Goku gets scared to the point of running away, I won't be able to go after him. Hakkai took Hakuryu along with him. Now, is that so hard to understand or do you still have more stupid remarks in stock?"

Sanzo headed to the backdoor, noticing that Gojyo had stopped following him after his last tirade.

Good.

The door was still locked, but that did not mean anything—there were some windows in the storerooms that Goku might have used to escape the building. He left the lamp by the door and gained access to the yard, dejectedly considering the distance he would have to walk to the orchard. Not much … in normal circumstances.

"Come on," he whispered to himself as he started for the orchard, "you can do it."

By the time he reached the first trees, though, he knew he had overestimated his chances. Gasping for air and drenched in sweat, he had to reach for a trunk to prevent his shaking body from collapsing. There was no way he would be able to scour the area for Goku—actually, as it was, he would have trouble to walk back to the temple on his own.

He took a deep breath, preparing his dry throat to call out for Goku, when a bell started tolling.

"The fuck?" He turned to the sound, heart thundering, his fingers going to the gun at his waist. Then he remembered the group of monkeys that lived, and sometimes created havoc, in the temple's grounds. The bell tower was one of their favorite hangouts, according to the abbot—so much so that there had always been a novice to watch out for this specific inconvenience. The monkeys would take over now, with Seikan dead and the others gone.

Either that or Zenko truly had a sense of humor.

Damn, where was _his_ monkey?

He glanced at the thatched roof that emerged from the treetops. Goku would not be _that_ stupid and wander directly into Zenko's lair, would he? A sudden idea occurred to him and he decided to check the house where his demons had been lodged during their first stay in this place. It was not that far.

The first steps after the pause were the hardest to take, but soon he got himself moving again. The sun was high and the day had the typical summer stillness; no one around, no sound—even the tolling had mercifully stopped. He found the low brick house with relative ease.

The door had been left ajar.

Sanzo wet his lips, tasting his own sweat, and slowly advanced. He pushed the door open as he drew his gun and poked his head inside, willing his eyes to grow accustomed to the semi-darkness.

The stench of blood was unmistakable. And in a corner, in the shadows, a kneeling figure rocked back and forth.

"Goku?" he called softly, waving away a fly.

His only answer was low, heartfelt sobbing.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Gojyo stood shakily in between the two darkened hallways, his face a confused mask of shock and humiliation. The anger that had given him the strength to confront and follow Sanzo downstairs had vanished at the sound of one single word—a word that still seemed to be hanging in the air, keeping him trapped in place: 'Stupid.'

Sanzo had abused him verbally _again_ and right after being warned against it. And yet Gojyo…

Gojyo had not been able to react. He had just … frozen.

But it was time to focus again. Time to move.

Now.

He blinked, wiped sweat off his face with his good hand, and looked around, trying to get his bearings. The only recollection he had of this floor was a blur of ice-cold tiles, blissfully hot water, and Hakkai's gentle voice murmuring that everything would be all right.

"Yeah, sure," he snorted to himself. "Everything."

The memory of that bath gave him a sense of purpose, though. His body still seemed to be itching where _he _had touched it and Gojyo wanted to wash that sensation away.

The bathroom was the last door to his left—he was sure that he had heard Hakkai saying that aloud.

And it would not be hard to get there, would it? He would not even need the lamp that Sanzo had taken with him; daylight now leaked into this vault from whatever cranny it could find, playing upon small details. A rusty knob. A discolored patch on a doorframe. A stain on the floor.

Like in that huge hall of _his_.

Gods, but he needed a bath!

His stomach now threatening to expel its meager contents, he rushed to the bathroom and shoved the door open. The cubicle consisted of a hole in the floor, a venting hole in the wall, and buckets and pans with water in the opposite corner. No tiles and no space for a bathtub. Definitely, this was not the place where he had been bathed.

Ignoring the stale stench of urine, Gojyo turned to the water supply. Even from the door he could tell that it was fresh and cold and that it would feel wonderful on his fevered skin. Sunlight filtered down from the venting hole, sparkling on the contents of a particular bucket, and suddenly the lure of such a combination was too much to resist. He went to it and sat with his back to the wall, mesmerized.

Sunlight on water.

It brought forth the sounds and images of a not-so-distant afternoon; of Hakkai haloed in gold, immersed to his waist in a river, washing blood from Jien's shirt.

Gojyo tilted his head to the ceiling, frowning. Once upon a time, Jien had reassured him as Hakkai did now. Once upon a time, Jien had done for him the same little, priceless things Hakkai did for him. Then Jien had just walked away from him one day and nothing had been truly all right ever again in Gojyo's life—until Hakkai. Who was more, much more than a mere replacement.

Gojyo closed his eyes. Though the Colonel had told him that Jien was dead, it had been the news of Hakkai's 'demise' that had undone him in that prison. He would not have fallen so easily into that bastard's sick games if he had not believed that he had lost Hakkai. He would have fought longer and better if he had Hakkai to go back to.

And _he_, the mind reader, had known that all along.

Gojyo gritted his teeth. He had played against cheaters before—had, actually, done his own share of cheating—but what that cruel bastard had done… Well, at least _he_ had given Gojyo something to do now he was out of the Sanzo-ikkou. Because Gojyo would go back to that town, would face the Colonel, and would kill the fucker. Not to avenge his outraged virtue or some other tripe like that, but on behalf of that nameless little girl whose corpse was left to rot while _he_ lived to enjoy another day. It was simple like that.

Hakkai was the complicating factor in the equation.

That and the small detail of finding himself paralyzed at the very first attempt he had made to regain his self-esteem.

Gojyo brought his bad arm, still tucked inside his large shirt, closer to his body. Damn, Sanzo had not even called _him_ stupid—Sanzo had merely labeled his _remarks_ as such. Of course, a direct attack was only a matter of time; Sanzo was Sanzo and Sanzo was merciless—at least to him. Though Sanzo…

_Sanzo has admitted that he lusted after me. _

Gojyo dropped his head and stared at the water. There were depths under its surface—depths that hinted of unworldly, timeless mysteries. Even in a bucket. Even in a smelly room.

"You never learn, right?" he snarled, hating himself for still caring. "You never fucking _learn_."

He shifted to his knees, dismissing the myriad of bruises and memories that such a position awoke, and reached down for the bucket. Which ended up being too heavy to be lifted with only one hand.

Scowling, he started trying to haul the thing up anyway.

Was Sanzo asking him for another chance? Like … starting anew from the night of the youkai ambush? Or was Sanzo acknowledging that he had purposefully passed up his chance?

It should not matter.

It must not matter because it did not make any difference now.

Did it?

A stronger pull and he upturned the bucket with a crashing sound. He watched bleakly as water spilled, soaking the crude floor and his pants. Frustrated, he bent forward and leaned his forehead on the side of the bucket, trying to slow down his ragged breathing. Shit, he had to get a grip…

The muffled noise of something massive being dropped or slammed came from what seemed a long distance away. Gojyo credited it to Sanzo and Goku's return and, relieved, sagged in his cold pool. Maybe Goku would know where that bathtub was… Maybe Goku could even help him heat water…

Another thud and a crashing sound—glass or china being shattered—and Gojyo sat up, startled, almost toppling over again with dizziness.

"The fuck?"

He fumbled for support and awkwardly got to his feet. The hallway was still deserted and disquietingly silent—Sanzo rarely raised his voice, but Goku's, whatever the mood the _saru_ was in, tended to carry. Gojyo listened to every sigh and crack this old building produced for a while, then carefully started retracing his way back to the staircase.

He halted midway when he heard another thudding noise. Louder. Closer. Coming from behind one non-descript door in a row of non-descript doors. He hesitated, then went to it. He might be in bad shape, but he would not hide upstairs and leave to an injured Sanzo the task of dealing with a potential threat. Besides… It may not be a threat at all. If Goku had not fled from the temple, the fake monk was risking himself outside for nothing.

He lowered the heavy metal knob, cracked the door open to peer inside, and blinked, surprised, as his eyes, accustomed to the semi-darkness, adjusted to daylight.

The small room—a dusty, unimportant storeroom, if the few piled crates were any indication of its purpose—was empty. It had not even a window. But a wooden panel had been displaced in the back wall, showing a passage to what had to be another wing of the temple. The light came from there. And the noise.

Licking his lips nervously, Gojyo advanced to take a cautious look. The new room was large and lavish, with a high ceiling and tall glass windows that welcomed in the sun. There were shelves overflowing with books and rolls of parchment, some still on the scattered desks, as if whoever had been studying here had departed in a hurry. The library. It must be.

Perceiving movement to his right, Gojyo turned quickly. A small brown monkey grimaced and hissed at him from its perch on a cabinet before escaping through an open window—breaking a china vase in the process.

Gojyo shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly. A monkey, indeed. Not the one he was looking for, but a monkey, nonetheless. He was pulling his sweaty hair out of his face when the unmistakable buzzing registered and something touched the back of his hand. He jerked his hand down and gaped, his mind going blank, as the fly hovered erratically.

There were others, he realized after a while. Buzzing and swarming over one of the desks. Gojyo wiped his hand on his shirt, nauseated, finally picking up the smell of decay.

_It's just a dead animal,_ he told himself. _It came in through the open window, couldn't find its way out again and died. That's all. _

One wobbly step at a time, he willed himself to advance into the room to check on whatever was rotting in there. He could not go to Sanzo and simply report, like a frightened child, that there was 'something' in the library.

It was an arm. An arm had been laid there, the rigid hand clawed upwards as if still in excruciating pain. From tumid, decaying flesh poked the white edge of the upper arm bone, neatly serrated. A knife had been stuck into the elbow and chewed pieces of bone had been put aside in a bowl, along with some rice. A tasty banquet—there was no other possible conclusion, especially at the sight of the wine bottles aligned on the floor.

Gojyo stepped back, retching and reaching for his bad arm. He gaped in freezing terror when his right hand found only an empty sleeve. Then he remembered that he had his arm tucked inside his shirt, that his arm was still where it should be, though hurting, and hurting more because he was squeezing it mercilessly to reassure himself that it was real, that it was _there_.

Not daring to turn his back on the gruesome scene, Gojyo slowly began to retreat towards the storeroom passage. A bell started tolling in the yard.

Then a low, dangerous growl sounded from a corner.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"…it's me. Goku? Are you listening to me?"

Goku stared up at the one who dared to approach him and bared his teeth. A part of him wanted to sink further into the confused murkiness that was his mind and simply Attack. Attack Now.

Attack to Kill.

"Hey! Goku, snap out of it. You must…"

That voice…

Goku craned his head, struggling to order his hazy, erratic thoughts. He recognized that voice.

"…stop this. Goku, stop this _right now_!"

Stop what? The one towering over him was also familiar, though he could not remember a name. If only this noise stopped… He could not concentrate with such a grating noise!

He clamped his hands over his ears, nails ready to go all the way straight into his brain and make the noise stop once and for all. Then there were hands encircling his wrists, hands that lacked strength, but which were insistent enough to give him pause. Indignation upon being touched flared and he almost did Attack on the spot; but there was warmth in the touch—wonderful, welcomed warmth—and he was so, so cold…

When the hands on his wrists tugged him forward, he complied meekly and burrowed himself against his potential prey, body and mind on the verge of a complete shutdown.

"Goku, would you please stop? You're…"

And there were more words, lost over the pesky rumbling noise that had increased in volume. Words did not matter anyway.

All that mattered was the heat. All he wanted was the heat.

The words ceased eventually, leaving only the noise hanging in the air.

Goku felt the pull on his wrists, urging him from his knees to a more comfortable position on the floor, and he went down mechanically, still quite bewildered at the noise. The one holding him retreated for a moment, then tightened his grip and started rocking. Goku sagged further into the embrace, exhausted.

He wanted to sleep.

He needed to sleep.

The noise, though…

The noise would not stop!

He was also becoming more aware of a throbbing, crippling pain in his groin. His pants were wet and undone, loose around his hips. He reached down, intending to rub the terrible pain away, then he yanked his hand up again. He did not remember the reason, but he knew that he could not touch himself _there_.

"Sorry," he suddenly blurted out, not even knowing why or to whom he was asking forgiveness. "I'm sorry. I'm…" He blinked, surprised. The noise disappeared at the sound of his voice! "…sorry," he continued, falling easily into his century-old habit of chanting those words to himself, "sorry, sorry, sorry…"

No noise.

"…sorry, sorry, sorry…"

Only his voice, putting an end to the noise like it had once broken the Silence of his cave. A very reliable companion, his voice. It could—and would—keep going on until his throat bled.

"…sorry, sorry, sor—" The touch in his hair was such an unexpected, disturbing element that Goku gasped, interrupting his routine mid-word.

"Goku? Hey?"

He pulled away from the contact and huddled against the wall.

"Goku, you're back with me? Fuck, talk to me!"

"Yeah, I'm here," he managed to slur. The one sitting on the floor beside him had a name and a history now. "And you're lucky _he_ isn't. Or you would be dead."

_He _did not like to feel pain. Never had. Pain was always only Goku's. Chuckling dejectedly, he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his—actually Hakkai's—jacket.

Damn, but he was losing it. Definitely.

The torturous noise he had been hearing all the while was nothing more than his own moans and growls—or, more precisely, his body's automatic answer to the considerable damage inflicted upon it. It was kind of funny, really. Because there were two demons fighting for dominance over one body … and when things got rough, both of them fled, leaving behind an empty carcass.

He closed his eyes to keep the tears from spilling.

One day…

One day he would simply finish everything. One day he would put his nails to their true use.

Sanzo had forbidden him from using his nails on himself. But Sanzo would not be with him forever, right? Each day they spent together was one less day they had. Goku might wish for time to stop, but he was no god. In the end…

In the end Sanzo was only human.

Therefore, Sanzo was dying.

He sat up with a startled jerk and looked frantically around. "Sanzo? Where… Where is he, Gojyo?" Gojyo just stared, his good hand cradling his swollen left wrist. "Gojyo?" Goku insisted, looking around wide-eyed. "Where is Sanzo?"

"Holy shit, _saru_," Gojyo whispered coarsely. "What the_ fuck_ have you done to yourself?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Sanzo floated in a murky haze, growing increasingly anxious. There was something that he needed to do… A place where he needed to be. He just could not allow himself to sink back into the void from which he had emerged, he had to…

_think! concentrate! _

…wake up.

He had to wake up.

A cheerful sound wafted into his limbo and he turned his attention to it, hoping it would, like a lifeline, drag him into consciousness.

Birdsong.

He was hearing birdsong.

And he was in pain—his head felt like it was about to explode. He unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth and cracked his eyes open. Brownish stripes tilted, blurred, then fixed on an image still not completely clear.

He had come to … to what exactly?

Sluggishly, haltingly, he began an inventory of his situation. He was in a cool, day-lit room, laying flat on his back. It seemed that he had been put on a bed, though his head hurt too much to allow him a true inspection. The brownish stripes he was staring at formed the raw roof: old, stained, thatched straw.

His heart lurched when this particular detail registered, memory suddenly rushing in. He had been looking for Goku and had found Zenko instead. And Zenko had attacked him with such speed that he had had no choice but to step back in a brusque move—a move his hip had not been able to withstand. He had ended up on the floor, Zenko already on him, panic costing him the precious second he needed to take aim and pull the trigger. The rest was a black hole.

He licked his dry lips nervously. Okay, so he had overestimated his body's capacity to keep functioning under stress. And, nothing new here, it had failed him. That being said… Why was he still alive?

His eyes still on the thatched roof, he focused on what his other senses could tell him. The bed on which he lay smelled of sweat and stale sex—gods, how could he have missed _that_ in the first place?—and the room felt cool, as if…

He gasped and sat up, ignoring the agony in his head.

The room felt cool because he was naked.

A low chuckle came from his left and Sanzo warily turned to it. Crouched in a corner, red eyes glittering, Zenko smirked at him.

"Hell-o, Sanz-o," the demon drawled. "Who'd think that you'd visit me again so soon? You must have seen something you really liked the last time you were in my house, eh?"

The half-growled words were almost unintelligible, but at least there was still reasoning behind them. Carefully, bracing himself for an attack at any moment, Sanzo slung his legs over the edge of the dirty mattress. "Believe me," he answered, enunciating each word with care. "I wish I could have had a say in the matter."

Zenko laughed, shifted in his corner, then covered his face with one of his big hands. "I wish I could, too," he mumbled drunkenly. "You know, I killed my father. Seikan-sama… I killed him. And I miss him…" he trailed off with a sob.

Sanzo stilled, surprised. Seikan had told him how this youkai, then a child, had come to live in the temple's grounds—and in such a tone and using such derogatory terms that Sanzo had not even considered the possibility of paternal feelings on the abbot's part. Seikan would not even say Zenko's name, referring to him as his 'burden,' 'that nuisance,' or simply 'the demon.' Had it all been a facade? The only complimentary words Seikan had had for his charge, as far as Sanzo could remember, had been 'hard worker.' Thus, he had thought that Seikan regarded Zenko at the very most as a … servant. "We can pray for Seikan-sama together," he murmured, scanning the room. No sight of his clothes, gun, or the scriptures. "Would you like that?"

"Pray?" Zenko sniffed and sucked his teeth. "I don't know how to pray. Father never taught me; said demons had no right to talk to the gods."

There was a bizarre whiny tone in the guttural voice and Sanzo balled his fists. Given his mission and the constant youkai killing he was forced to commit, he did not like to dwell on certain gray areas of demonic psychology; but youkai _could_ live for centuries and this one, in youkai terms, _was_ still only a child. "Demons can and should talk to the gods," he said neutrally. "Everyone is screwed, after all."

Zenko laughed again, tears streaming down his dirty face. "Father—_Seikan_ taught me how to write and read, though. I loved to read. He did not allow me near his books, but I found a way to get into the library when I was six or seven." He let out a dangerous hiss and vigorously scratched his bare chest. "One day he caught me there… And beat me until he broke one of his wrists."

It was becoming more and more difficult to follow Zenko's ramblings. Sanzo shook his throbbing head in a gesture that, he hoped, would be interpreted as one of empathy, and measured the distance to the open door and the hallway beyond it. The small kitchen/living room area were situated there—he had crossed it in three steps the night he had paid Zenko his visit. There must be a knife somewhere in that kitchen.

Zenko seemed to sense him planning, for he tilted his head, nostrils flaring. "Do you know what I did a couple of nights ago, Sanz-o? I had dinner in that library." And he got to his feet. "A very, very special dinner." Sanzo's stomach clenched when the youkai casually dropped his torn pants and stood naked, an angry-looking erection jutting from a nest of dark hair. "It's lunchtime now, Sanz-o."

There was no time for a reaction. Sanzo found himself again on his back, Zenko above him, pinning him down with a single hand. His attempts at freeing himself were met with casual, demeaning slaps on whatever part of his body he presented to Zenko in his frantic thrashing.

"Now," Zenko breathed, "that's what I call a meal. Such a pretty, yummy meal." He bent his head and viciously dug his teeth into Sanzo's left shoulder.

Sanzo squeezed his eyes shut, grunting in pain and shock. Too fast, everything was going too fast… He had to think, had to look for a way out of this nightmare, but Zenko had now withdrawn his teeth and was licking his blood as if it were the tastiest wine he had ever had and Sanzo's fearful outrage was quickly changing into paralyzing horror.

"I'm going to eat you whole, Sanz-o," Zenko mumbled. "Chew on every single bone and shit you out tomorrow morning."

With a moan of aversion, Sanzo freed his left arm and slammed it into the demon's nose with all the strength he could muster. Zenko released him with a snarl and Sanzo slipped to the floor. He had to get to the kitchen—despite his hip, despite his head, on his hands and knees if necessary—he _had_ to get there. He was almost at the door when Zenko caught him by his right foot and easily dragged him back to bed and to the same pinned position on his back.

"Nice show you gave me, Sanz-o…" Zenko straddled Sanzo's thighs, his penis already dripping precome. There was blood on his chin, though Sanzo could not tell whether it was the youkai's or his own. "You on your knees, ass up in the air… Cute! And look at all this gold here!" Zenko reached down with his free hand and played with Sanzo's pubic hair before squeezing his flaccid member. "A shame this beauty doesn't want to party."

"Don't…" Sanzo started weakly, then bit his lip to keep silent. He would not beg. He would not scream. He might be on the verge of being killed slowly by a mad demon, but he still had his dignity.

Chuckling, Zenko released Sanzo's penis and shifted his attention to his scabbed-over bullet injury, tracing it slowly with the tip of his index finger from border to center. "Hurts?" he asked with fake concern. Sanzo thrashed in agony when the sharp nail pressed into his hip, making way for the finger. "Hurts!" Zenko asserted, laughing maniacally.

Sanzo lifted his head, staring down wide-eyed at the grotesque scene of having a big, hairy finger half-stuck into his flesh. Zenko was still talking, but his words had lost all meaning now. A part of Sanzo's mind analyzed detachedly that this particular problem could actually be _his_—that he was going into shock and disconnecting from reality. And he could not allow that to happen: it would be his death sentence. He had to…

_think! concentrate! _

…fight.

He had to fight.

But that finger…

Sanzo could not avert his eyes from that finger.

Apparently, static acceptance was also not what Zenko wanted from this game. He raised himself from Sanzo's legs and freed his wrists—holding Sanzo down only with the finger in his hip. Seeing an opportunity to escape, Sanzo brought his knees up, trying to seize Zenko's arm. Zenko just yanked his finger from Sanzo's body—and at such an angle that it grazed against Sanzo's pelvic bone on its way out—grabbed his ankles, and folded his legs further, exposing his buttocks. Blinking back tears of pain, Sanzo stared up at the grinning face of his torturer.

Zenko blew Sanzo's hair out of his face and tauntingly waved a bloodied finger in front his eyes. Then, like a child counting to three, the demon raised two more fingers in the air. Sanzo crossed his eyes to look at them, his faint "What?" turning into a piercing scream when those fingers were shoved into his anus.

Whimpering in agony, Sanzo fumbled for the large shoulders, trying to push the creature off and out of his body. Zenko's skin was slick with sweat and Sanzo's hands frustratingly kept slipping down, without managing to alleviate the pressure; and when Zenko replaced his fingers with his engorged penis, Sanzo's breath shut off. He was being severed in two—eviscerated from inside out.

He had to … had to…

_think! concentrate! _

…breathe.

He had to breathe.

But the pain! Zenko rammed into his body, each punitive thrust meant to cause him damage. The stench of blood—his blood—filled the room now.

On the verge of passing out, Sanzo took in the thing above him and suddenly understood with absolute clarity that he was going to die in this place—with his legs spread wide while a lowly demon pumped his dirty cock into him. He snorted at his own stupidity, tasting mucus from his running nose. It seemed karma had finally caught up with him. And he deserved this, didn't he? He deserved this for what he had done to Gojyo—for what he had allowed to be done to Gojyo.

He turned his head to the door where he himself had stood an eternity ago, watching Gojyo having sex with the cruel youkai that now was killing him. And had to blink to focus his blurring eyes.

Because Gojyo was there, right _there_, gaping at him, wild-eyed.

Noticing the company, Zenko, like the first time they had all played this scene, started putting on a show. He slowed the pace of his thrusts with a derisive huff, arranging Sanzo's body in a more appealing position.

Sanzo locked eyes with Gojyo's from his side of the abyss, strangely calm. There was shock in Gojyo's eyes and a myriad of other emotions that Sanzo had no difficulty in translating. Among them was retribution.

Sanzo swallowed hard and managed a sad smile. _Just go, then_, he thought, a particularly vicious thrust causing him to bite his lower lip. _Walk away. Like I walked away from you. _And he shut his eyes, lolling his head to the wall. He would not watch Gojyo turning his back on him.

The bolt of energy hit his body jarringly from head to toe and continued vibrating until it reached his very soul. He opened his mouth to scream a protest, but nothing came out except a weak mewling sound. Pain receded a little only to crash back into him with nauseating force, and he wavered unsteadily on the edge of consciousness—he did lose consciousness for a few seconds—then cracked his eyes open.

Gojyo stood over him, _shakujou _in his swollen left hand. Zenko… Zenko's _head_ had rolled to the center of the room, the glassy eyes staring. Sanzo could not see the rest of the body, but there was blood splattered all over the place. And, this time, it was Zenko's blood.

"Sanzo? You—you okay?" Gojyo's voice seemed to come from very, very far away.

Okay? Sure, he was 'okay.' Very much in pain, though. And cold.

"Sanzo?"

"My clothes," he muttered tonelessly.

"Fuck, I—where are they?" Gojyo demanded.

Sanzo sat up straight on the bed, ignoring the big sore pain he had become, ignoring the fact that he was bleeding heavily both from his reopened injury and his buttocks, and pointed to Zenko's discarded pants. "Those will do," he slurred through gritted teeth.

The _shakujou_ shone brightly for a moment more, then disappeared. Gojyo stepped over something—Zenko's headless corpse, Sanzo inferred dully—and went to collect the pants. He handed them to Sanzo, face expressionless.

Without trying to stand, without looking up, Sanzo struggled into the pants. His hands shook so badly that he was not able to zip the fly. It did not matter. He would have to hold the pants up anyway; Zenko was—had been—at least three sizes bigger than himself.

"Sanzo?" Gojyo whispered, his voice hollow. "I—I don't know what—"

"So don't."

And he didn't. "Goku," Gojyo said instead, breaking the heavy silence. "He isn't well. He—he wants you. He tried—fuck, Sanzo, he's pretty hurt."

Sanzo nodded and willed his body to move. Shit, had Zenko broken his hip? It seemed so… It _felt_ so… "Let's go back, then," he muttered.

"Can you stand?"

The question was answered when Sanzo's knees buckled. He would have fallen if Gojyo had not reached out to support him.

"Look, Sanzo, maybe we should…"

"No," Sanzo whispered. "Let's go."

"I can't carry you," Gojyo insisted. "My arm—"

"Let's _go_, Gojyo."

Gojyo grunted and started walking, dragging Sanzo along with him. Too preoccupied in not losing the contents of his stomach or the control over his bladder because of pain, Sanzo passed through the kitchen without caring to try to find a knife in among the flatware on the counter. What would be the use anyway?

"You're bleeding," Gojyo remarked angrily. "Shouldn't we stop? Sanzo?"

Sanzo hissed when Gojyo guided him to the sun-bathed yard. He could not even shield his eyes against the light—not if he wanted to keep his borrowed pants in place. "I need—need to go to … to that brick house," he informed Gojyo. "Where you were lodged, remember? It was where… The scriptures may be there, I think. And my gun. I _must_ retrieve them."

Gojyo did not say anything else, but steered them to the left. Sanzo just kept his legs moving, and those pants in place, seeing nothing, hearing nothing but his own thundering heart. He could not go to sleep… He had to…

_think! concentrate! _

…walk.

He had to walk.

Walk in the sun.

While blood ran from his buttocks, from the vicious bite in his shoulder and from his reopened bullet wound. The soles of his feet also itched and hurt—he _hated_ to walk barefooted, especially on open ground. And how strange that, of all his many injuries, he was fixing on this insignificant detail as the main source of discomfort now!

"Gojyo?" he called suddenly, afraid that Gojyo's presence had been only a dream.

"What?"

Gojyo sounded as tired and breathless as Sanzo himself felt.

"Don't—don't tell Hakkai," Sanzo rasped. "Don't tell him about … about … you know. He'll feel guilty as hell."

"I won't," Gojyo answered softly. "But he'll find out anyway. And feel guilty anyway. We're here."

Sanzo raised his head and stared at the brick house and its open door. Buddha, if Zenko had dumped the scriptures and his gun somewhere else… What would he do? He could not start another wild-goose chase, not now...

"Hey," Gojyo said, stopping mid-step. "That's one of your sandals over there, isn't it?"

It was. Sanzo's clothes, his gun and the scriptures—though howZenko had managed to deal with _those_ on his own was beyond Sanzo right now—lay half-hidden in the shade of a gingko tree. Suppressing a scream, Sanzo knelt on the ground and began the long, exhausting process of dressing himself with hands that suddenly seemed to be made of lead. Gojyo did not dispute his right to some space and privacy, but, after a while, it became clear that the kappa was growing impatient.

"Sanzo?" Gojyo finally urged. "We must go."

Sanzo sneered. Of course they had to go. Did Gojyo think that he would sit under this tree until he gained enlightenment like Buddha?

"Sanzo?" There were hands on his shoulders, hauling him up, and Sanzo cringed both at the contact and at the excruciating pain that any movement caused. "Come on, get up. I'll help you."

And he must have, for the next thing Sanzo registered were the familiar paneled hallways of the temple and Goku's body pressed against his own, the childish voice calling his name over and over. Gojyo was standing at one of the windows, now open. The difference that a small quantity of light and fresh air could do for the kitchen wing was impressive.

"Sanzo, are you hurt?" Goku whimpered. "Sanzo? You _are_ hurt. I'm sorry, Sanzo, so sorry, I should have done what you said. I'm hurt, too, Sanzo, I'm sorry, you said don't use your nails, but I did. And now you're hurt—"

"Okay, that's enough," Sanzo croaked, trying to push Goku away. They both were sitting on the first step of the wooden staircase.

"I'm sorry, Sanzo," Goku went on. "Can I sit here with you? Please, Sanzo, can I?"

"Yeah, just shut up." Sanzo tilted his head up, then looked at Gojyo. "And you. Sit down."

"I forgot to lock the door." Gojyo said, his voice detached, mechanical, as if he was in a trance.

_So what?_ Sanzo thought hysterically as Goku curled up on the step with him. _You killed the monster already… _

"I should… Sanzo, you should… Goku can… You'll be more comfortable in your bed."

Sanzo pressed his right hand over his injured hip and propped his head against the wall behind him, listening detachedly to his body's desperate screams. Yeah, he would get up and climb those steps… Maybe even drink a little of that medicine Hakkai had been concocting for Gojyo… Later. He had to rest now. Give himself time to stop shivering. Give Hakkai time to get back to them.

Hakkai had promised he would come back…

And then Hakkai would patch his body together and make everything all right.

**o o o**

It was growing dark when Sanzo regained consciousness. He was still half-laying at the foot of the stairs, Goku sleeping by his side. Gojyo dozed curled on the floor, his face hidden by the shifting shadows—above him, the window showed a swirling red sky. The day was coming to an end.

"Gojyo?" Sanzo whispered, feeling light-headed. The pain… The pain had dulled considerably. "Gojyo!"

"Huh?"

"Better light a lantern or two. For Hakkai."

Gojyo blinked at him, then stood groggily and went to search for light. He returned shortly, only a gangly silhouette against the darker walls. His hair, though… His hair was still unmistakable. Sanzo almost smiled at the sight.

"Just found one damn candle," Gojyo said, lighting it awkwardly and putting it on the windowsill.

"It'll do," Sanzo murmured, transferring his gaze to the small flame. A candle on a sill for Hakkai. Like it had been that night in Wu Tai's room.

Gojyo cradled his bad arm against his chest and settled back in the shadows with a graceless flop and a curse.

"He'll be back," Sanzo said aloud, more for his own benefit than Gojyo's. "He promised." It was becoming more and more difficult to keep his head up and his eyes open. Also, his speech… His speech was falling into an unintelligible slur, wasn't it? He tested his sticky tongue.

Gojyo did not seem impressed. "Look, Sanzo, we really must—" He was interrupted by the sound of a car engine.

"I told you so," Sanzo mouthed soundlessly to the candle framed by the evening sky. "He promised me."

Goku let out a gasp and sat up, frightened. "Sanzo? What—"

"Sanzo?" Hakkai's anxious voice hung in the air, lifting the paralyzing spell his absence had caused. "Gojyo?" And Hakkai was already in the temple—running, it seemed. "Goku, where are you? Sanz—"

"Don't shout," Goku muttered, cringing. "Tell him to stop shouting, Sanzo?"

Hakkai halted at the hallway with a gasp, Hakuryu on his shoulder. "What happened?" he asked in a lower, more controlled tone. "I saw the door open…"

"Zenko is dead," Sanzo answered, struggling to form the words. "Come and sit down." He pressed his lips together, annoyed, when Hakkai cast a sharp look in his and Goku's direction, then went to crouch in front of Gojyo. The two talked quietly for a while, Hakuryu's position creating the most fantastic impression of _Hakkai_ being the winged one. Sanzo did smile this time.

Goku plucked at his arm. "Sanzo? Can we go back to the road now?"

"Go back to sleep, Goku."

Goku pressed his face against Sanzo's shoulder and relaxed. Hakkai sent another look their way, touched Gojyo's forehead with the back of his hand, and stood.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sanzo demanded, squinting up at him.

"We need more light," Hakkai said softly. "I can barely make out anything in this—"

Unhurriedly, Sanzo drew his gun, cocked it, and aimed at his teammate. "Sit down."

"Sanzo…"

"Or I'll shoot you, Hakkai. I'm serious."

"Sanzo, Gojyo told me that both you and Goku are hurt. I need more light so I—"

"We are_ all _going to be here, together, resting," Sanzo slurred. It was hard, very hard to keep the gun up; his whole body was on fire, as if Zenko's teeth had also instilled venom into it. "No one will wander off to do anything. Enough is enough. Got it?"

Hakkai opened his mouth, ready to protest further, then nodded and sat down by Gojyo. Sanzo nodded back at him, satisfied.

Yes, they would be here, together, like the floating wreckage of a ship. Later, they would have to go through what had come to the surface, what could be saved, and grieve for what had been lost forever.

So, so many things!

But for now…

For now they had this sanctuary. And he, as their leader, had to…

_think! concentrate! _

…sleep.

He had to sleep.

With his gun at hand to quash any eventual rebellion, Sanzo sighed and closed his eyes, relieved to have his team reunited once more.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"Gojyo, do you want to play poker?"

Hakkai heard the hesitant invitation, halted in the hallway outside Gojyo's room, and peeked through the open door. Goku stood there, awkward in his borrowed Buddhist robe, holding the pack of cards that Hakkai had found and given him. Sprawled on the bed, Gojyo raised his head from the book he had been reading, his expression distant. Then the book was shut. "Yeah, sure," he answered, sitting up. "What are the stakes?"

Hakkai stepped back carefully and resumed his way to the kitchen, for the first time appreciating the beauty of the richly carved corridors of the wing that the Sanzo-ikkou now occupied. He entered the narrower, much drabber kitchen area refusing to acknowledge the discomfort it stirred in him and went to check on his pans. No head boiling on the stove this time, though the memory would be always there; just rice, mushroom soup, and a fruit dessert he had improvised in an attempt to trick his teammates into eating.

Hakuryu came in through the open window and greeted him with a cheerful twitter.

"And hello to you, too," Hakkai said, reaching out to pet the dragon's wings. They were still warm from the sun. "Where have you been all morning? I've started lunch already."

Hakuryu let out a somber, deeper sound that Hakkai had no problem whatsoever in translating: Sanzo.

"Yes, I know," Hakkai murmured, his high spirits suddenly crashing down. "I—I'll talk to him. I was going to wait until we had lunch, but I suppose Sanzo won't give us the pleasure of his company. Can you manage here for a while? Keep an eye on the soup and on our dessert in that bigger pan over there. Smells good, huh?"

Hakuryu agreed half-heartedly. Hakkai gave him a last pat and headed to the yard. He passed by the narrow staircase that led to their old quarters and could not avert his eyes from the stain on the first step. Sanzo's blood. So much of it that whoever came to take care of this place in the future would have to change the wooden boards. He shoved the back door open and strode into the sun, visions of red—of plunging his hands in wet red, of tasting red while he tore flesh apart—waving tauntingly at him from the dangerous, best-not-visited depths of his soul. A pity that Gojyo had killed Zenko; he would have liked a private moment with the youkai bastard. He would have taught Zenko a lesson in—

No.

Hakkai swallowed, willing his angry steps and his thoughts to slow down.

That was not who he was, and not the one Sanzo needed him to be. Violence brought no forgiveness or redemption; it only kept the dark wheel spinning and crushing everything in its path. Hakkai glanced at the charred remains of Zenko's house—Gojyo had burned it along with the corpse inside—and veered towards the woods. What was left for them anyway but to pick up the pieces and go on?

He found Sanzo sitting under the blooming magnolia that Goku had come to refer as 'Sanzo's tree.' The white flowers were in their prime, fragrant and beautiful against the blue sky—a striking contrast to the still figure in jeans half-hidden in their shade.

"Hello there," Hakkai said quietly. "It's almost noon already, aren't you hot?"

Sanzo snapped out a monosyllable that could be understood as "No."

"Well, it _is_ a wonderful place," Hakkai continued conversationally, settling on the ground by Sanzo and ignoring his exasperated huff. "I'll miss it when we leave."

"Yeah, it's hard to find peace out there," Sanzo remarked in an acid tone. "Not that I can find it _here_, mind you."

Hakkai smiled at the jab but refused to get the clue and leave. This was the first complete sentence he had heard from Sanzo since Zenko's attack; so, if intruding upon Sanzo was what it would take to spark a reaction, any reaction, from him, Hakkai would gladly accept the title of Most Annoying Demon in the World. Goku was too miserable to keep carrying it with the proper flair anyway. "I found something this morning you'll approve of," he offered, still pretending his presence was welcomed.

"Cigarettes?" Sanzo asked immediately.

"Uh? Oh. Sorry, no." And Hakkai could have kicked himself for the false hope he had inadvertently created. Both Sanzo and Gojyo were going through nicotine withdrawal since Sanzo had smoked his last cigarette; Gojyo had even rummaged through the departed monks' quarters after some unlikely forgotten pack. "I found two barrels of lamp oil in the north wing," he explained, his 'good news' now sounding dull even to his ears. "I think there might be more; I didn't check all the newer storerooms. No more fumbling in the dark at night to save oil and candles, eh? From now on, we can light every single room of this place."

Sanzo did not seem impressed with the prospect.

Hakkai looked at his hands and clasped them on his lap. "Lunch is almost ready," he murmured in the silence. "I'm cooking that mushroom—"

"Not hungry."

"Ah, yes. But… Goku won't eat if you don't." Hakkai knew he was not playing fair, using Sanzo's conscience against him like this, but he had run out of more clever alternatives. "You could have a bowl of soup, if that much? Just until Goku gets distracted and goes on his own."

Sanzo turned to him with one of his eyebrows lifted and Hakkai shrugged, unrepentant. _Yeah, duh, that was lame. But can you blame me for trying? _

Above them, a bird let out a plaintive cry and Sanzo tilted his head up to watch it fly— blatantly keeping his eyes on the distance long after it had disappeared. Hakkai bit the inside of his mouth and took off his monocle to clean it on his sleeve, giving himself another excuse to disregard Sanzo's dismissal. The lens was cracked. And how he had managed to keep _this_ on his person was a wonder, especially after that scene in the boarding house with Zhou Jun and the old man. After his … attempted rape.

He studied Sanzo's profile, guilt suddenly so overwhelming that he could do nothing but stare. Sanzo had had no such luck. Not with Zenko. Not even with something as tiny and yet essential as his own corrective lenses. Goku had lost all their belongings and without his reading glasses Sanzo could not even have the distraction and the comfort of the library. It was _Gojyo_ who hung around in there most of the time; Sanzo only … sat here.

"Knock it off, Hakkai. Do I have something on my nose?"

The raspy voice startled Hakkai out of his reverie and he quickly lowered his head, almost dropping his monocle onto the ground. "Oh, sorry. No, I…" He stopped his hand midair in the process of placing the monocle back on his nose. It seemed inappropriate now, to have this advantage while Sanzo had gotten none. "I'm sorry," he repeated. _For not being present when you needed me. For your pain. For everything. _"I'm—I'm really sorry, Sanzo." 

Sanzo grunted and sagged against his tree. "Hakkai, I think you're spending too much time with Goku. You're starting to act and sound like him. And that is a terrifying thought."

The words, Hakkai noticed surprised, sounded almost amused. "Oh, sorry, I—" he chuckled, embarrassed. "I suppose I am."

"How is he?" Sanzo asked in a sober tone after a while. "I know his body is healing. What about his mind?"

Hakkai considered the question, thankful for having Sanzo talk. And the genuine display of interest was such an unexpected gift that Hakkai could not belittle it by lying—even if the lie was meant to spare Sanzo more worry. "He's … stabilizing," he answered. "I haven't seen that vicious side he showed me on the way to the Anthill and I don't believe he's going to fall back into it. When I realized how hurt you were that night, he got very frightened—Gojyo had to restrain him so I could heal you—and yet he was … himself, all the while."

"But?"

"But he's still unusually childish and … well, clingy. I don't believe he'll be able to fight if we have trouble."

Sanzo nodded, his expression blank. Apparently he had already come to that same conclusion. "Where is he now? I had to shoo him away at gunpoint."

"Playing cards with Gojyo. I don't know how long it will be until he comes running after you, though. We'll have to teach him how to function without your presence all day long."

Sanzo nodded again and pulled an imaginary loose thread from his jeans. Hakkai could guess what his next question would be only by the subtle changes in his breathing and posture. "And Gojyo?"

"Recovering, like Goku. No fever for three days, which is always a good sign. That arm… It's taking its time, true, but Gojyo is half-youkai. He has even gained some of his weight back."

Sanzo looked at him from beneath his bangs and Hakkai knew that he had given away that something was amiss when Gojyo became the subject of their conversation. However… No matter how honest he was trying to be with Sanzo right now, he was not going to mention that Gojyo had been cold and distant with him the whole torturous week—undoubtedly because he blamed Hakkai for Sanzo's ordeal.

And that hurt, of course. Even with Hakkai blaming himself for it … that still hurt. "Aren't you going to ask my opinion about yourself?" he asked quietly.

"No," Sanzo hissed, outraged, averting his eyes once more.

"Like Goku and Gojyo, you're recovering," Hakkai went on, adjusting his monocle back in place. "Physically, at least. You're withdrawn and moody, and I don't know whether I should keep pestering you to drag you back to us or whether you're better on your own. That worries the fucking hell out of me—you worry the fucking hell out of me." Sanzo turned to him, surprised. Hakkai smiled and extended his hand, brushing a small leaf off Sanzo's hair. "What? Can't I curse sometimes?"

"I'm okay," Sanzo said under his breath. "I just—I need some space."

"Yes. And, unfortunately, Goku can't give you that right now." Hakkai rested his hand on Sanzo's left knee and squeezed gently before retrieving it. "Neither can I. I can't avoid fretting and fussing over you. Sorry."

Sanzo stilled completely. "Hakkai, I—"

"Sanzo!" Goku's voice shattered the moment with a loud, already semi-hysterical call. "Sanzo? Sanzo?"

"And there we go," Hakkai said, getting up. "Come on, just a bowl of soup?" He extended his hand to Sanzo. "Please?"

Sanzo clicked his tongue, irritation written all over his face, but accepted the hand and the help to get up.

A breathless Goku came into view, still calling.

"I'm here, Goku, stop that hellish noise," Sanzo said impatiently. "Let's go back. Hakkai has made us lunch—"

"No, you can't!" Goku cried. "You can't go back! You can't, Sanzo!"

"What are you talking about?"

"A party—a party with horses and carriages has arrived. Humans…"

"Did the monks return?" Hakkai asked. "Chokei-san said that they would, as soon as—"

"No, you don't understand!" Goku shrieked. "Not monks. Humans in dark uniforms!"


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The area between the orchard and the temple was crowded. There was a small group in colorful silks standing near two carriages—potbellied, gray-haired men engrossed in conversation—and there were soldiers—some of them still mounted, more than a few with their guns purposefully displayed or already drawn, and all following Sanzo and his demons' progress with watchful eyes.

"Sanzo, don't," Goku murmured uninterruptedly, walking by Sanzo's side as he pulled and grabbed at whatever he could reach of Sanzo's clothes. "Don't go there. They'll hurt you. Sanzo, please?"

Sanzo yanked his arm free, suddenly tempted to let it fall down onto Goku's head. The satisfactory, merciful _silence_ that such an act would produce might be well worth the undignified free show he would put for their audience. Hakkai must have perceived his intent, for he immediately stepped in to hold Goku back, giving the boy no chance to cling to Sanzo again. It was not enough to make him shut his mouth, though.

"Sanzo, run," Goku continued to beg. "Please, Sanzo, don't let them hurt you."

"I counted seven civilians and twenty-eight soldiers," Hakkai murmured, managing to keep up with Sanzo's strides despite having to drag along a struggling Goku. "There are probably more around and inside the building. Can you tell their ranks from the uniforms?"

Sanzo squinted in the sun, trying to think. Trying to concentrate. His mind seemed to be shutting down as it circled round the only question that mattered to him at the moment: Where was Gojyo? Blankly, he took in the cluster of dark-clad men at the door. Explanations, planning, even fighting would have to come later. First, he had to retrieve Gojyo.

He halted mid-step, disconcerted, when one of those forbidding faces smirked at him.

"Zhou Jun," Hakkai said by his side, a little breathlessly. "We should—"

Someone called to them and Sanzo vaguely heard Hakkai's efforts to turn in the direction of the voice with Goku still under his care. There seemed to be greetings, but then he was no longer paying attention. While more recent and much more painful memories surged, he could only stare—stupid, frozen, useless—at the man who had groped and propositioned him in public.

Zhou Jun nodded, basking in the prolonged eye contact.

Time resumed its flow again when suddenly Sanzo found himself with an armful of shaking, sweaty Goku. He looked down at the demon clutching desperately at him; looked back at Zhou Jun, whose wriggling eyebrows seemed to pose the same question the pervert had asked in Wu Tai's prison—_Do you collect pretty boys, Servant of Buddha?_—then looked at Hakkai who stood nearby with nobody less than Wu Tai himself.

Hakkai forced a smile, tilting his chin almost imperceptibly to indicate the civilians. Important people, without any doubt—people who had stopped talking and now stared at Goku, which aggravated the nervousness among the soldiers and caused more guns to be drawn. To set Goku loose, Sanzo inferred, had been Hakkai's way of pleading for help. Goku would end up shot if he continued to frighten their 'guests.'

Sanzo frowned, seeking the balance point he usually reached before and during a battle. Unsurprisingly, it was not there. Fear and frustration morphed into fury and he seized Goku's shoulders, shaking the boy hard. "You'll stop this shit," he growled. "Now."

"Sanzo," Goku whimpered, raising wet eyes to Sanzo's, "they're armed. They'll kill you, Sanz—"

The slap caught Goku right on the face, causing his head to bob and his grip on Sanzo's shirt to loosen a bit.

Sanzo leaned forward, ignoring Goku's dazed expression and the anonymous laughter that wafted into their little scene. "I've had enough of this nonsense," he hissed into Goku's ear. "So, you _will_ stop. No ifs, no buts, no excuses. You _will_ stop. Or, so I swear to the rotten gods in their fucking heaven, I will thrash you right here, in front of everyone. Thanks to you I can't waste ammo, but I guarantee that when I finish, you'll wish I had shot you and been done with it. Got it?" He felt more than saw Goku's nod. "Good. Now, paws off." Goku let out a gurgling sound of protest but slowly, one finger at the time, released his grip and dropped his hands. Sanzo acknowledged his effort with another, less spiteful, "Good," glanced disdainfully at the civilian who was still laughing, and turned to Wu Tai. "Captain," he said through gritted teeth. "You're a long way from your town. Are you the one in charge here or should we expect someone else? Is your Colonel inside, chopping off my teammate's arms, perhaps?"

Wu Tai bowed rigidly, clutching the handle of his sword. "Sanzo-sama. I'm the one in charge; the Colonel was needed elsewhere. And, as I was telling Cho Hakkai-san, we're here to—"

"Sanzo-sama!"

Sanzo whirled around, almost bumping into Goku. He recognized the short man who exited the temple immediately: Xie Dewei, Head of the Council of Hell on Earth.

"Good morning, Sanzo-sama!" Xie Dewei waved to him, clearly unwilling to advance further into the open. "Or is it good afternoon already? We were waiting for you. Captain, don't keep him!"

"What do you want?" Sanzo demanded, hating how nervous his own voice sounded.

"Just to talk," came the answer. "But inside, _ne_? It's too hot to stand in the sun and we can't keep screaming at each other across the yard. Come in!"

Goku moaned, but did not dare to express his discontentment with the situation again.

"Where are my youkai?" Sanzo insisted. "Both the man and the dragon?"

"They're here." Xie Dewei took a handkerchief from his sash and wiped his face. "Let's take this inside, Sanzo-sama, please? Lunch is ready."

Sanzo cursed under his breath and resumed walking, Goku trailing after him like a faithful dog.

"Who is that?" Hakkai asked, catching up with them a second later.

"Their Head of the Council," Sanzo muttered. Buddha, should he keep Goku around at all? What if Xie Dewei and his men had come to take him prisoner for the killing of those soldiers? They had to get to Gojyo, but what about Goku? He brushed his hair out of his eyes with impatience. If only he could think!

"Bigwigs don't take part in their armies' raids unless there is something for them that they're very interested in," Hakkai stated calmly over Goku's head. "We might have an advantage here, Sanzo."

Sanzo grunted, ridiculously thankful for having a lucid Hakkai attentive to his dilemmas and prepared to help him out. It did not do much to his pride, true, and later he could be properly embarrassed. Or not. Pride was no longer a familiar feeling. Not these days.

_Stop, _he ordered himself._ Concentrate._

An advantage.

Yes, they could have an advantage. Against all odds, it was possible that he was the one holding the trump card in this meeting. Xie Dewei would not have left his comfortable house and his crumbling town if he were not desperate. Would he?

Zhou Jun smacked his lips together when Sanzo and his demons passed by him, but that was all the hassle thrown their way before they reached the door.

"Come in, come in," Xie Dewei said, stepping back into the temple, all bows and solicitous smiles. "We were waiting for you, Sanzo-sama."

"We?" Sanzo repeated, spotting in the shadows a pair of armed soldiers.

"Merciful gods, it's so unbelievably hot!" Xie Dewei babbled, fanning himself with his handkerchief. "Let's go to a fresher room, sit down, and cool ourselves, eh? Have I mentioned that lunch is ready to be served? I'm starving!" And he disappeared into the kitchen hallway with a purpose that indicated he knew the place well.

Sanzo followed him after a while, with Goku still blindly trailing behind him and Hakkai bringing up the rear of their small party. The door that led to the inner wings was open and Xie Dewei stood at the entrance of the mess hall, surrounded by more civilians and more soldiers.

"Here is much better!" Xie Dewei said, still waving his handkerchief. "Right, Sanzo-sama? I used to spend winter here when I was a young man, did you know that? Seikan-sama was a good friend; it was he who taught me how to—"

"If you want to talk," Sanzo interrupted coldly, not even bothering to count how many potential enemies stared at him now, "we'll do it my way. You, my servants, and I. And by my servants I also mean the two youkai." He pointed at the group of strangers lingering in the hallway. "The rest stay in the yard."

The fanning with the handkerchief stopped. "Well, Sanzo-sama, you certainly don't expect—"

"Oh, but I do, Xie-san. I can't think of anything you have to say that would be of interest to me. So, if you don't agree with my terms, go back to your town—I'm sure there are a lot of things needing your attention at the moment."

"I—but the youkai, Sanzo-sama?" Xie Dewei grimaced and restarted fanning himself, as if trying to fend off a bad odor. "Those things are dangerous. If you had seen what they did—"

"I suppose I can make an educated guess, Xie-san, since I was chosen by the gods to address this particular problem," Sanzo answered sarcastically. "My way or no way."

Xie Dewei grimaced again. "All right," he rasped, all his fake cheeriness gone. "The soldiers will wait outside. But since you're keeping your servants by your side, I'll keep mine, Sanzo-sama. Fair is fair, _ne_?" Sanzo bowed slightly and with a careless gesture Xie Dewei dismissed most of his group before walking into the mess hall and settling down at one of the several long tables. "Tell the youkai to come," he told one of the civilians, his voice reverberating in the spacious sunny room. "And bring us lunch. Sanzo-sama, sit down. Let's do this like civilized people."

Sanzo complied, choosing a seat that would give him a good view of the door. Goku hesitated for a moment, then sat down near him. Xie Dewei lifted his eyebrows at this and asked in a disdainful tone, "Do you eat with your servants, Sanzo-sama?" His own 'help'—most well-built, wary, and probably armed bodyguards—were now scattered around, giving their table an illusion of privacy.

Sanzo shrugged, not bothering with a response. Hakkai had been right: they _had_ the advantage in this meeting. Otherwise he would not be the one dictating conditions on how the conversation would be held. In other circumstances it might even be amusing to play with Xie Dewei and let him squirm and sweat. Now…

Now, he just wanted this over.

Xie Dewei was still talking.

Sanzo indifferently watched that mouth move, fascinated by the rotten front tooth, then turned his head to check on Hakkai. Hakkai had retreated to a corner without any fuss, his back to the paneled cedar wall—it must have been him who had opened the windows earlier to aerate the hall. Maybe Hakkai was even dusting rooms as a part of his daily chores. Sanzo had seen him with a suspect rag in his hands the previous morning…

_Stop this! Think! _

Sanzo rubbed his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. Fuck, he _had_ to concentrate! He shifted his attention once more to Xie Dewei, willing his brain to restart translating words.

"…always kept my distance, Sanzo-sama, with the borders between master and servant clearly drawn. Learn that the friendlier you are with your servants, the lazier they will become…"

The elderly man Xie Dewei had sent away returned with a laden tray, Hakuryu hovering over his head, and an annoyed-looking Gojyo in tow. To Sanzo's surprise, a third youkai also came in, his colorful silks billowing elegantly with each step.

"You!" Goku blurted out. Sanzo Glared at him and Goku muffled himself with both hands, widening his eyes with dread.

"What, do you know each other?" Xie Dewei demanded harshly.

The unknown youkai smiled and arranged a loose silver hair back to his hairdo. "We had a short interview at home, Xie Dewei-sama," he said, gliding across the room. "This boy came to see me and ask for counsel regarding Sanzo-sama's arrested youkai. I told him I couldn't help and sent him on his way." He stood behind Xie Dewei at some distance, watching Hakuryu's antics with the elderly man and the tray. "The dragon didn't want us near the food; apparently, he is the one who takes care of things in the kitchen." He smiled again and bowed to Sanzo. "I'm Jiro, Sanzo-sama."

Xie Dewei shrugged and took the bowl of soup his servant had managed to pour for him. "Ah, well, it doesn't matter. Let's eat, Sanzo-sama, let's eat. Aren't you hungry? I'm starving. Who is your cook? Don't tell me it's really the dragon!"

"I am the cook, sir," Hakkai said softly. "Hakuryu, stop."

Hakuryu acknowledged the order with a low-pitched whistle and flew to a rafter in the vaulted ceiling. Gojyo took a seat on the top of one of the empty tables and, as far as Sanzo could assert, seemed quite all right.

"So, let's see how talented in the kitchen you are, uh, boy?" Xie Dewei said with a glance at Hakkai. He sipped his soup from the bowl and nodded. "It's good, but it would be better with some spice. I suppose the monks were keeping their pantry plain and simple? Seikan-sama was like that." A subtle signal and the elderly man put in his hand a bowl of rice. "Isn't there any meat?" The elderly man muttered an apologetic negative and Xie Dewei twisted his mouth in displeasure. "Ah, well. Gods, Sanzo-sama! If my old friend Seikan knew that one day we would bring demons into his temple and have them around during a meal like real people! He wouldn't—"

"What do you want, Xie-san?" Sanzo cut the man off. "And be brief, please."

Xie Dewei sighed. "I've come to you to, uh, hire your services, Sanzo-sama."

Sanzo pushed his own bowls to Goku, nauseated. "You eat that. Yes, you will," he added when Goku shook his head. "But you were saying, Xie-san? My services?"

"Our town is in chaos at the moment, Sanzo-sama," Xie Dewei said, eyeing Goku with censure. "We managed to crush the youkai rebellion—there's still trouble on some farms, yes, but our beloved hill is safe. Few places were spared, though; our main commercial district is ruined and the casualties…" Xie Dewei shook his head. "We'll have to rebuild almost everything, Sanzo-sama."

"Do you need me as your mason?" Sanzo drawled.

"Uh? Oh, Sanzo-sama!" And Xie Dewei's startled expression changed into one of genuine amusement. "You know, it's hard to find a monk with a sense of humor. No, we don't need you as our mason. But… You see, willpower isn't a problem to us, never was. Although money… We're poor, Sanzo-sama. I'm sure you've noticed that—you, who have been to countless lavish cities! We're a poor people—"

"Your _point_, Xie-san?" Sanzo pressed with a huff.

Xie Dewei grimaced. "Uh, yes. You see… Jiro…" And he pointed over his shoulder. "…belongs to one of the most influential youkai families of our town. Jiro is a non-official member of our town's council and a kind of spokesman for the youkai community. Not that we still have one now."

"And?" Sanzo inquired. "Goku, I told you to eat that. I won't warn you again!"

"And Jiro's sole requirement to lend us the money we need is to have the old fortress purified."

Sanzo stilled in the process of pushing the bowl of soup back into Goku's easy reach. "What?"

"We'll—we'll have the money—youkai money—for rebuilding on the condition that the Anthill is purified. Jiro is … adamant."

Sanzo looked at the willowy youkai, who stared back at him with unreadable red eyes.

"The closest temple to our town is this one," Xie Dewei continued. "Four days ago we got news from one of the nearby villages; that's how we knew that my old friend Seikan had been killed but that the great Sanzo-sama was still around. Perhaps the gods decided to have mercy on us, for you're more than qualified to—"

"If you think that I will go back to that shit hole you call your town, you'd better get another think coming," Sanzo spat.

"Sanzo-sama, you have my word that nothing will happen to you _or _to your servants," Xie Dewei went on conciliatorily. "You, and therefore your men and youkai, will be under my direct protection. The soldiers I've brought along are just an escort. A guarantee. Besides, like I said, I'm willing to hire your services." He snapped his fingers and the elderly man produced a sack from one of his loose sleeves and placed it on the center of the table. "Here, Sanzo-sama."

"What the fuck is this?" Sanzo demanded at the end of his tether.

"The money you paid for your demon." Xie Dewei pointed at Gojyo. "I'm returning that money to you, every coin. We don't have much, Sanzo-sama, but I hope you'll accept this as a token of goodwill—"

Sanzo gained his feet, livid. "Get out of here."

"Now, now, Sanzo-sama, at least consider—"

"Get out. My answer is no. Good day, Xie Dewei."

Xie Dewei stood with the help of the elderly man and, instead of continuing to bargain, turned to the youkai behind him. "Well, Jiro, I tried," he said coldly. "I did my part. You'll have to do yours and give us the money anyway."

Jiro bowed. "Yes, Xie-sama, of course. I would like to have a word with Sanzo-sama, though … to try to convince him to help us."

"Do as you want," Xie Dewei retorted. "But I'm going to the nearest village—at least there I'll have a decent meal. Your escort will stay, make no mistake, and if you don't drag your ass back to us, be assured that they will do that for you." And without another look or word to anybody, he left the mess hall with the rest of his retinue.

Loud voices sounded in the hallway, then in the yard, and soon there was also the noise of horses and carriages being put into movement. After a short while, only birdsong broke the day's silence. Sanzo took a deep breath and unclenched his fists when Hakuryu left his perch on the ceiling to land on Hakkai's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Sanzo-sama," Jiro said in a hushed voice, "Xie Dewei came here only at my insistence. I knew that you would need his personal guarantee before going back."

"I won't go back," Sanzo answered. "And, since it seems you don't have a choice in the matter, you should have gone with them."

Jiro shook his head and indicated the table. "Why don't we all sit and talk? Hakkai-san, join us, please?"

"Do you _also _know each other?" Sanzo demanded, raising his eyebrows at Hakkai.

Hakkai spared him a glance, his expression mildly surprised. "Jiro-san," he murmured, coming to the table, "how—how did you…"

"How am I still myself, when the others went Mad?" Jiro finished for him. "I don't know. But Xie Dewei said the truth: there isn't a youkai community in our hometown any more. The few who weren't affected by this … sickness or whatever it's called, will be hunted and killed. My position is the only safeguard I have at the moment. The humans would have me executed, if they could figure out a way to get to youkai money without having to deal with me first." He looked at Goku. "But Ojii-sama… Ojii-sama is dead." He transferred his gaze back to Hakkai. "As is Zuoji. They had their uprising, at last, but it did not ended how they planned. Though it did end as I knew it would."

Sanzo looked at Gojyo—still apart and now studying his own nails with an air of boredom—and sat again by Goku. "Jiro, I'm not going to ask how you came to know my … men." _Servants_—he had almost used the term, which, after Xie Dewei's diatribe, would sound like a dirty word. "And honestly? I don't care. I'm not interested in anything you have to say. Now, if you'll excuse us, it's way past lunch time."

Hakkai found a place at the table, took one of the bowls and offered it to Hakuryu. "Sanzo, perhaps we could hear Jiro-san out, while we eat? Gojyo? Do you want—"

"No," Gojyo growled.

The embarrassed expression on Hakkai's face was enough to make Sanzo relent a little. "You have ten minutes," he warned Jiro, more interested in saving Hakkai's face than in hearing whatever the other had to say.

"Thanks, Hakkai-san, for your intervention on my behalf." Jiro took Xie Dewei's seat, pointedly arranging the folds of his silks. "Sanzo-sama, you were in that fortress. You certainly felt its dark aura, the despair that the place … emanates." Sanzo conceded the point by tilting his head. "It was always like that, Sanzo-sama," Jiro went on. "The humans—some of them, at least—are able to make jokes on the subject. There's a tower—"

"Jiro-san, I know that place is bad. That it reeks of dark energy. Skip the dramatics and the ghost stories."

Jiro sighed. "Most of the youkai in and around our town are—_were_—mainly sub-employed workers, Sanzo-sama. Poor, uneducated, superstitious people; easily frightened, easily led about. Convenient tools, if you wish. But some older families still retained their wealth and some political power. Youkai guilds and associations were responsible for several lucrative businesses. I was appointed their main treasurer a few years ago."

"And now Xie Dewei has seen the opportunity to seize youkai wealth for himself," Sanzo concluded detachedly.

"Yes. His proposal is genuine—actually, _I_ went to him and offered him this deal. The fortress as it is now has its appeal to him and his minions—after all, it has been an effective threat to keep us demons on track for generations—but our Head of the Council is nothing but a very pragmatic man. Between a fortress that is already crumbling apart and the possibility of seizing youkai money, he will opt for the latter. So much so that I have my own personal 'escort' at the moment—Xie Dewei won't risk me fleeing and leaving him empty-handed. Not that I would." Jiro smiled slightly. "Flee, I mean."

"And why should I get involved with this mess again?"

"A man I deeply cared for died in the Anthill, six decades ago," Jiro answered in a calm voice. "Since then… I can't go on, Sanzo-sama; I never could go on. During all these years, during these _decades_, all I could do was try to find a way to purify that fortress. And now … now is the time." He moved on his seat and Sanzo caught a waft of his perfume. "What I'm asking of you, Sanzo-sama—what I'm begging you to do—" And Jiro bowed until his forehead touched the tabletop. "—is to give peace to the spirit of the man I love."

The following silence in the hall was painful.

Sanzo traced the rim of a fragile china bowl with a finger, tempted to smash it. "And you assumed that, because you asked me, I would go back to that hell and risk my men's lives for your deceased lover?" he asked slowly.

Jiro straightened his back and looked at Sanzo evenly. "No. Why should you? But you see… I'm also willing to pay you." He held a hand in the air, his long painted nails shining. "No, Sanzo-sama, I'm not talking about money. A priceless service must be paid with a similarly priceless reward. In exchange for your services, I'll return your memories back to you."

"You're speaking in tongues, youkai," Sanzo retorted. "And your time is over. Hakkai, show Jiro-san to the door."

"Son Goku left two bags in a mutual friend's house," Jiro said, unperturbed. "Does that ring a bell, Sanzo-sama? That mutual friend, before leaving our town, saw that those bags were brought to me. I also went to the inn where you discarded some personal items. In other words, Sanzo-sama, I have your and your youkai's complete luggage safe. There is ammunition, a pair of glasses, a fan, a very old, very used set of mahjong tiles, packs of cigarettes, letters and notes signed by a certain Kanan … shall I continue?"

"A comb," Gojyo murmured. "Did you see—"

Jiro turned to him. "An ornate woman's comb, carved in whalebone. Yes, half-breed."

"Why should we believe you, Jiro?" Sanzo said angrily. "As far as I know, all of this is a trap."

"A trap," Jiro repeated. "For whom, Sanzo-sama? For what purpose? You saw those soldiers! If Xie Dewei wanted to take you or one of your men as his prisoner, or all of you, for that matter, you would be in chains by now."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Sanzo replied, annoyed.

"Maybe yes, maybe no," Jiro conceded. "But my point is still valid. Let me rephrase my question. If Xie Dewei wanted to take you or your men as his prisoners, would he have simply gone away?"

"He hasn't, as far as I know," Sanzo answered. "He and his soldiers can still be nearby, waiting for an opportunity. Xie Dewei said he would leave you an escort—"

Jiro snorted. "Xie Dewei's soldiers were _in_ this temple, Sanzo-sama. They had all the opportunity they might need—gods, they had your half-breed as a potential hostage! There's no hidden agenda."

Sanzo gritted his teeth. "But that sick bastard in the fortress had one," he said spitefully, for lack of another argument.

"You mean … the Colonel?" Jiro widened his eyes. "Did he?" He shrugged and waved a hand in the air, dismissing the subject. "Well, just tell Xie Dewei that you don't want him near you or your youkai. That man has bothered some important Council members for a while and now, after the state our town was left in, there are claims for his head. Metaphorical claims, of course, though I'm sure some of our most influential people would like things to be done more … to the letter?" He produced a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from a pocket. "Cigarette?"

Sanzo wet his lips, staring at the thin cylinder in Jiro's hands. Oh gods, he could use a cigarette right now. Would agree to go with Jiro if only the bastard offered him the whole pack… "I don't—"

"I'll go with you."

Gojyo's raspy voice caused Sanzo to look up, surprised. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he demanded. "Since when can you 'purify' anything? This is my decision to make—"

"You do whatever you want," Gojyo answered. "And I, since I'm no longer a member of your team, will do whatever I want. I have unfinished business in that town, and I would go with Jiro even if he didn't have anything to offer, which he does. I want my stuff back."

"Gojyo," Hakkai interfered, "I don't think we should discuss this—"

"You're right," Gojyo retorted. "There's nothing to discuss."

Goku turned to Sanzo, opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, then managed to speak. "There's—there's that … that lady's spirit, Sanzo. I saw her. She was … buried alive. Like me. I would—I would like to help her. If you purify the fortress… Maybe her spirit will have peace?"

"Sanzo-sama," Jiro butted in again, "we can catch up with Xie Dewei in that village he's lodged in and travel with them. We won't have to take the main road, and though the detour will take us a little longer, we'll have some comfort along the way. Then… Half a day in our town, Sanzo-sama, and everything will be over."

"Sanzo, can we go with Gojyo?" Goku asked. "Can we? Sanzo? I will protect you there. No one will hurt you; I won't let them. Please, Sanzo?"

Too angry and too humiliated to answer, Sanzo stared at Jiro.

"Please, Sanzo-sama?" Jiro begged once more. "You still have to go west, don't you? Do your men and me this favor, then you can go on." He made a pause, his red eyes darting around the table with the intensity of a zealot's. "Then we _all_ can go on."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

_Pain. _

_Radiating from his wounded groin. His self-inflected injuries were serious, he knew. But that did not matter. All that mattered was the lax body beside his own. _

_"Sanzo?" he asked. "Is it morning already?" _

_No answer. _

_They were on the staircase. _That_ staircase._

_Why were they still there?_

_He reached out to grab the pale hand that rested on the step above his head, not caring that such a gesture could—would—render him a smack and a dressing down. _

_"Sanzo? Why—" He choked the rest of his question, too appalled to continue. Sanzo's hand was cold. Frighteningly so. _

_"Sanzo?" he called once more over the desperate hammering of his own heart. _

_Sanzo was also stiff. Sanzo was cold and stiff and… _

_(dead) _

_…there was blood, so much blood on him! _

_"Sanzo!" _

_Sanzo was… _

_(dead) _

_"No! Sanzo! Sanzo, please! _Sanzo!"

Goku shot up in his bed, the strangled scream still hanging in the semi-darkness of his room.

Shit, he had been dreaming—again. The same nightmare had been haunting him since he, like a mindless fool, had lay beside Sanzo on that flight of steps even knowing that Sanzo had been hurt. "I'm sorry," he moaned softly, wiping his sweaty face with his shaking hands. "I'm sorry, Sanzo. I should have—I should have _smelled_ your blood. I'm sorry I didn't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry…"

He could feel himself falling into the dissociating, trancelike rhythm of this litany as fear propelled him out of his bed and towards the door. He _had_ to see Sanzo. _Had_ to hear Sanzo breathing. Even when a part of his mind started reasoning that Sanzo was _alive_, and _fine_, and that Sanzo did _not _want him nearby so he had better _stay_ where he was, he still _had_ to go to Sanzo.

It was a battle Goku fought—and lost—every night.

The lit hallway made him hesitate for a moment. He did not need artificial help to get his bearings, and any change in what had become a well-known territory just increased his fear. Hakkai had no business in messing with the lanterns… Hadn't he realized yet that nobody, not even Hakuryu, had given a damn about his loudly announced oil discovery?

Barefooted, chewing his lips to prevent himself from blabbering more apologies, Goku sidled in the direction of Sanzo's room. He definitely did not want to meet Gojyo, who had also developed the habit of roaming these hallways at ungodly hours. Lost in his own inner battles, Gojyo was now unpredictable: the kappa could pass by Goku without a glance, sit with him outside Sanzo's closed door in companionable silence, or grab and haul him from his place at Sanzo's door, hissing in his ear to leave Sanzo the fucking hell alone.

Sanzo, who could also spend a whole night pacing his room.

"We're nuts," Goku murmured. "We're all nuts." The thought, put into words, sounded strangely funny and he giggled with his shaking hand on his mouth to keep it in control in case it went off again.

He hesitated for a moment at Sanzo's door. Sanzo would not take the intrusion well; he never did. But tonight Goku needed him enough to risk his human's fury and a scene. He looked around one last time—no Gojyo—listened for footsteps behind the door—no noise in the room—and pushed the door open. He blinked in surprise.

No Sanzo.

The only sign that Sanzo had ever _been_ to this barren room was his robe, discarded on the bed. It shone ghastly white in the moonlight that flooded through the window and such an image filled Goku with horror.

"Sanzo?" he called stupidly.

No answer.

No Sanzo.

Goku retreated once more into the hallway and continued stumbling along the passage, senses in overdrive as confusion and fear boiled up to rage—an animal rage that could erupt at any moment. "Sanzo?" he rasped, wiping his eyes. The light hurt them and Hakkai's cursed lanterns were everywhere. "Sanzo, are you there?" He wandered from the dormitory wing, scratching with his nails the carved panels that adorned the walls. "Sanzo?"

There was an answer this time. Merely a whisper, coming from his left.

"Sanzo?" He turned and hurried towards that sound. "Sanz—"

"…I understand," the voice was saying, growing clear as Goku approached the library, "but I don't think we should go back. Too risky."

Goku gritted his teeth and slowed his steps. The voice did not belong to Sanzo. It was Hakkai's.

And he did not want to see/hear/think of Hakkai—not when he was already on the verge of Seriously Losing It. Though if Hakkai was preaching… He had to be preaching to someone…

"I don't remember asking you your opinion. Did you find that map I want or not?"

Goku froze in place then quickly dashed to the main entrance of the library.

Sanzo.

That _was_ Sanzo!

"I'm not sure if this one is the specific map you asked for," Hakkai's voice intruded again, "but it's very detailed."

Carefully, Goku poked his head through the gap between the double doors. Hakkai's intrusive lanterns had also found their way into the library, forming a circle of light in the center of a vault that was still predominantly dark. Within this circle, two familiar figures leaned over a table stacked with scrolls. Goku focused on Sanzo's golden hair and tried to ignore Hakkai. It was impossible.

"See this bifurcation?" Hakkai opened further one of the scrolls and tapped it with his index finger. "There are at least a couple of ways to avoid the main road. Here it says—"

"I can't read this shit without my glasses," Sanzo growled, pinching his nose. He reached out, took the map from Hakkai, and folded it in two. The parchment crackled loudly. "Tomorrow morning—"

"Sanzo, you can't fold that!" Hakkai scolded inanely. "Some are priceless relics."

Goku rolled his eyes upwards and crept into the shadows of the library. _Shut up, you doofus_, he thought resentfully. _Why don't you ever shut up? _

"More than your letters?" Sanzo asked, falling into a chair. Hakkai, much to Goku's glee, deflated visibly.

"I can quote those letters by heart now," Hakkai murmured in the following silence. Goku knew that not even his superior hearing would have caught the answer if not for the acoustics of the place. "I just liked to look at them. Kind of like having something concrete with me—a proof, if you wish, that the life I lived once was … real." A pause. "I forget sometimes." Sanzo seemed very interested in his folded map. Hakkai shrugged and added, "They aren't worth the risk of going back, Sanzo. I'm sure Goku and Gojyo will also agree that their own stuff—"

"Gojyo will go back, never mind what I decide," Sanzo said, throwing the map onto the table. "You heard him talking."

"Yes, but—"

"There are no buts, Hakkai. He has unfinished business there. Personal business. And so has Goku, from what I could discern from his blabbering about dead women."

"Goku won't—"

"But Gojyo _will_," Sanzo interrupted again with impatience. "And what that fucker doesn't seem to realize, or care, is that Xie Dewei's protection was offered to _me_ and extended as an afterthought to the rest of _my_ team. If he goes there alone he will be killed on the spot."

Hakkai shifted his feet, apparently accepting Sanzo's point—though Goku could tell by his expression that he had not given up arguing. Hakkai never gave up arguing. And now he was brewing something in that head of his, something he seemed reluctant to dish out. Some low blow. Goku opened his mouth to alert Sanzo, but Hakkai was quicker: "What happened in the fortress, Sanzo?" The question sounded inoffensive, but it caused Sanzo to grow very still in his chair. And when Sanzo lifted his head to look at Hakkai, Goku cringed at the cornered expression on his face.

But Hakkai was a son of a bitch! How _dare_ he mess with Sanzo?

Without any conscious decision, Goku was already moving to intervene—only to be jerked back by the scruff of his neck. Startled, he looked over his shoulder and ended up staring at narrowed red eyes. Gojyo shook his head at him—_Don't_—and focused on the pair in the lit circle. Goku opened his mouth to protest, closed it, and also went back to watching the scene. Hakkai extended a hand—the deformed shadow that his arm projected reached the ceiling—and brushed Sanzo's hair with his fingertips.

Surprisingly, Sanzo allowed the touch.

More surprisingly, Sanzo _leaned_ on it until Hakkai's hand rested against his lips.

Gaping, Goku turned back to Gojyo, who indicated the doors with his chin—_Out—_before exiting the library.

Goku cast a last look at Sanzo, and at Hakkai so close to him, and followed the kappa into the hallway.

"Gojyo?"

Gojyo did not acknowledge his call and just kept walking. Goku trailed him, too puzzled to do anything else.

"Gojyo?" he tried again when they reached the kitchen area. "Why did Sanzo—"

"What about a snack, _saru_?" Gojyo proposed nonchalantly, entering the kitchen without slowing down his strides. He went directly to the stove and only stopped when he bumped into it, upturning one of the pans. "What do you say? Nobody ate that dessert Hakkai made for lunch. It's still here."

"I don't—"

"Take it." Gojyo turned to Goku and dropped a pan into his hands. "It still smells good."

"Gojyo, I—"

"Not now, _saru_. Okay? Not now."

Goku nodded and stared blankly at the pan in his hands. Gojyo went to a cabinet, retrieved a bottle from it, and left. Goku frowned at the sugared bits and pieces of peach, listening to Gojyo's steps fading away. He twirled through the slices of fruit with his finger and jumped slightly when the backyard door was slammed.

He could not tell how long he stayed like that, playing with Hakkai's dessert. Eventually he put the pan back on the stove and headed to the hallway. He could go to Sanzo—but then he would have to deal with Hakkai. Not a good prospect. Hakkai now stirred in him an inexplicable inner ache, an urge to lash out and demand answers to questions Goku himself could not put into words. Tentatively, he turned to his right and proceeded to the back door, avoiding looking at the flight of steps where Sanzo had bled. He curled his toes upwards, hating the contact with the wooden floor, and let out a relieved sigh when his bare feet touched dirt.

The night was clear and peaceful and he had no difficulty in spotting Gojyo sitting on the stone wall of the well, head tilted upwards and a cigarette in his mouth.

Goku approached him slowly, expecting to be sent away, and when the rebuke did not come, he sat beside Gojyo.

"Where—where did you find that?" Goku asked, pointing at the cigarette. Behind them, there was that dark, humid void—Goku could smell the water in there and he knew that, for Gojyo, that sensation would be much more acute.

"Jiro gave me his pack," Gojyo muttered around his cigarette. He blew a plume of smoke up. "Tastes like shit. Want to try?"

Goku widened his eyes. "Seriously?"

Gojyo passed the cigarette to him. Goku accepted it with trepidation, imitating Sanzo's elegant two-finger gesture as he took it. The thing just felt odd on his lips. And the first drag triggered a bout of coughing.

Gojyo snorted and drank from the bottle he held. "Next you'll want my liquor, and then we can proclaim you a grown man."

"I—" Goku started, then began coughing again. "I am—"

Gojyo pulled the cigarette from Goku's mouth and put it out. "All right. That's enough. I don't want the fake priest accusing me of corrupting innocent little boys."

"I'm—shit—I am a grown man," Goku croaked, still coughing. "I'm not a boy." _Nor innocent. _

Gojyo shrugged, drank a mouthful from his bottle, and went back to watching the moon.

"Jiro gave you liquor too?" Goku queried when he managed to pump air into his lungs again.

"Nah. I found this thing hidden in one of the monks' rooms. Whoever that guy was…" and Gojyo raised the bottle in the air, making it splash in a toast. "…here's to you, motherfucker."

Goku watched Gojyo drink, then extended his hand. Gojyo laughed mirthlessly and surrendered the bottle. Goku smelled it, held his breath, and gulped some liquor down. It was vile. It burned his throat and brought tears to his eyes. But it washed away the taste of the cigarette and made his body tingle pleasantly.

He lowered the bottle to their stone seat, nodding. He could not understand the appeal of cigarettes, but this? This could be interesting.

"What's this story about women being buried alive?" Gojyo asked after a while.

"Uh? Ah, that. I saw someone there. In the town, I mean. She told me—_showed_ me how she was killed. It… It was…"

"…gruesome," Gojyo finished for him. He had taken the bottle once more and now stared at the circle that its wet bottom had created on the stone.

"Yeah," Goku muttered. "I kind—I kind of lost it. I mean, I started—_he_ began talking to me. _He_ wanted me to take my limiter off."

Gojyo did not say anything. Goku watched as he began drawing with his finger on the dirty stone between them: five straight lines radiating outward from the circle the bottle had made. "I saw people being killed there," Gojyo muttered. "In the fortress. I'm used to death, but theirs… I suppose I'm not that immune to meaningless cruelty."

"And isn't that a good thing?" Goku asked, staring at Gojyo's drawing. "Is that a sun?"

Gojyo produced a short, hollow sound that could not be really termed a laugh. "It depends, _saru_," he said. "It may be a flower."

Goku was going to comment on Gojyo's lack of artistic talent and ask for the bottle back, when something _he_ had said popped up in his mind: _A pissed Sanzo isn't sunshine and blossoming fields. __Ask Gojyo. He learned that the hard way. _All right, so _he_ was a liar—_he _had said that trying to make a point about Sanzo's inability to forgive—but Goku also knew that _he_ understood things much more easily than himself. Grasped them from half-words or from quirks of eyebrows or from thin air, like Hakkai.

"Did you learn, then?" he blurted out. "Did you learn that you can't cross Sanzo and expect to win?" Gojyo turned to him, surprised. And offended, judging by the way his mouth had tightened. "If you did learn," Goku went on, "why are you still pushing him?"

"You should go back inside to your Sanzo, _saru_," Gojyo replied in a cold tone.

"And so should you," Goku retorted, suddenly very incensed. "Why are you still so angry and saying that you'll leave the team?"

"In case you didn't get it yet," Gojyo hissed, "it was _Sanzo_ who kicked me out."

"So what?" Goku demanded, aware that he was whining now. "Sanzo didn't mean that. _He_ said to me that Sanzo couldn't forgive, but _he _lied. Because Sanzo forgave you. You shot him, but still Sanzo forgave you. And you've just heard him talking in the library, right? He's going back to that town so you won't go there alone."

Gojyo frowned, but did not answer.

"Don't you see, Gojyo?" Goku insisted, his voice breaking. "We don't want you to go away. None of us want that. No matter what stupid shit we may have done. Because in the end? In the end we're friends. That's how things should be."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Ignoring the soldiers that had followed him to the vacant lot, Gojyo sat on a broken fence, shook a cigarette out of his pack and looked up. The view—layer upon layer of small lit houses—was uncomfortably familiar, though this time there were several dark patches in the scenery and a silent stillness that hinted at Something Gone Wrong.

He pushed his wet hair out of his face and impatiently scratched his neck. Damn, he liked heat, but not heat like _this_. He had just got out of a bath and could already feel sweat trickling down his back. And the loose tunic he wore offered poor protection against the mosquitoes that grew frantic at nightfall.

One of the soldiers let out a muffled laugh and Gojyo froze, heart pounding embarrassingly. Even after a three-day journey of forced interaction, these humans' proximity, as well as the sight of their uniforms, made him very uneasy. He flexed his left wrist, testing it, then, with shaking fingers, fished his lighter from a pocket.

Since Sanzo, on the morning following Xie Dewei's visit, had announced that they would join Xie Dewei's entourage and return to the town with it, Gojyo had oscillated between excitement and deep concern. Excitement because he knew that Sanzo, against Hakkai's advice and his own best judgment, had made such a decision based solely on Gojyo's wishes. And concern because the last thing that Gojyo wanted to do was endanger his teammates—or former teammates—while he sought his revenge against the Colonel.

He lit his cigarette and inhaled a punishing lungful.

So far, his 'plan' to face the Colonel consisted of images in which he beat the shit out of the fucker. But there was no concrete, thought-up scheme that would allow him to connect his being on the foot of the hill under military surveillance to being … wherever his enemy was.

Xie Dewei had said that the order to evacuate the fortress had already been issued.

Gojyo stared at the maze of houses that rose to the sky, frustration slowly fading into apathy. It was the heat, he tried to convince himself. The heat drained one's will, rendering the person sluggish and constantly tired. It had to be the heat.

Laughter reached him again and Gojyo gritted his teeth. Thanks to the turtle's pace of Xie Dewei & Co, they had arrived in Hell Town with the sun already setting—too late for Sanzo to go further uphill. With the purifying ceremony postponed to the next morning, Xie Dewei had ensconced his 'guests' in one of the small houses he had for rent—"No inn will accept your demons, Sanzo-sama"—and gone his own merry way, leaving a contingent of armed men for 'protection.' Now the night promised to be long. The two hours it took the Sanzo-ikkou to get a meal and have baths had been more than enough for Zhou Jun—who had kept his distance during the whole trip—to start prowling around and cracking lewd jokes. Gojyo could feel the man's eyes on his back now.

Would Zhou Jun be able to tell him the Colonel's whereabouts if … prodded nicely? If, for instance, Gojyo gave the perv the kind of attention he wanted? Gojyo squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, a snarl forming in the back of his throat. He knew he would _not _do that, though the ridiculous thought caused a memory to surface: of being in a cell with Zhou Jun caressing his hair and Bully-san towering over them, calling him a beast… Of being in a cell _considering_ the possibility.

And he had done more than 'consider' anything with the Colonel, hadn't he? Sanzo had fought Zenko; seriously injured, torn from the inside out, Sanzo had fought. Gojyo could still see Sanzo's pale hands—had had nightmares about those pale hands—trying to push Zenko away. He, on the other hand…

…he had accepted…

…had climaxed…

_Is that why you were after Sanzo?_ the Colonel's cruel voice echoed in his mind with stunning clarity. _Is he the man you aren't?_

"Fuck!"

He smashed his cigarette on the fence and turned to the group of soldiers who watched him from afar. Zhou Jun's smirk immediately died on his lips, much to Gojyo's disappointment—he would love to show the bastard why it was not a good idea to pet youkai beasts.

With a warning look in the humans' direction, Gojyo stormed back to the house where the Sanzo-ikkou was lodged. He shoved the door open and strode to the stairway, not bothering to keep quiet. The place was dark, except for a single gas lamp in the living room—over dinner, Hakkai had announced to nobody in particular that he intended to go to bed early and, apparently, the others had decided to do the same.

A sudden suspicion and Gojyo halted mid-step, the interrupted movement causing him to stumble heavily. Oh gods, had Hakkai given Sanzo some secret signal with that 'announcement' of his? Maybe the two of them were together now… They had certainly been very comfortable with each other in the temple's library…

"Are you drunk?" a voice suddenly reached him. Gojyo whirled around, almost toppling forward again. Sanzo stood in the living room, his hair white in the gaslight.

"How did—what are you doing up?" Gojyo demanded rudely, as shock immediately gave way to annoyance.

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours," Sanzo replied coldly. "_Are_ you drunk?"

Gojyo snorted, and opened his arms wide by his side. "No, I'm not drunk, mom. Want to smell my breath?"

Sanzo set his face in a bored mask, then became very interested in the pattern of a carpet. "I couldn't sleep," he said after a while. "Taking into consideration what we experienced in this town and how unfit we all are, I still can't believe that we just came back without any other guarantee but a politician's word. It was a monumentally stupid thing to do."

"Nobody forced you," Gojyo said defensively, surprised at Sanzo's uncharacteristic long speech.

"Gojyo, you made it clear to us that you would come back one way or another," Sanzo said with impatience. "That means that Hakkai would also come. And I—"

"—certainly could not allow Hakkai to risk his life," Gojyo finished for him, turning to the stairs. "Of course. Well, if you'll excuse me, it's getting late. I'll go with you to the Anthill tomorrow, then you won't have to deal with me ever—" Gojyo choked off the rest of the sentence when strong hands grabbed him from behind and threw him against a wall.

"Two things, you idiot," Sanzo hissed, balling his hands in the front of Gojyo's rough tunic and pinning him in place with a knee between his legs. "Two _fucking_ things. First: you don't put words in my mouth. _Ever_. Second: I know what you're trying to do and I know that it won't work. I also know that you're a stubborn ass, so if I have to beat some sense into your thick skull, that's what I'm going to do."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gojyo growled, seizing Sanzo's wrists. "Let go or I'll—"

"Aw, you don't know what I'm talking about?" Sanzo tightened his hold. "How can you believe that you'll be able to saunter about these people's streets when they hate youkai so much is beyond me. How can you believe that you'll be able to breeze through a whole well-trained army to get to your enemy—who happens to be a powerful mind reader—that's way beyond me. How can you believe that you'll be able to leave this town alive, should you manage to perform all the aforementioned stunts, is way, way beyond me. Hakkai thinks you have a plan. I think you're an idiot who will get himself killed."

"So what?" Gojyo blurted out angrily. He did not want to hurt Sanzo, but he would break Sanzo's wrists if the fake monk did not release him. "So fucking what? Why should you care—" The open-handed slap sent his head lolling to the side and shocked him into silence.

"I've had enough of your corny festival of self-pity, half-breed," Sanzo snarled. "We risked our lives to rescue you, and yet—"

"Rescue me?" Gojyo spat, jerking his arms free. "Did you call _that_ a rescue? And if you hit me again—"

"We did what we could," Sanzo said, frustrated. "Within the circumstances—we did what we could."

"Keep repeating that. Maybe _you_ will believe it."

Sanzo shook his head, nostrils flaring.

"What?" Gojyo taunted, pushing his hair out of his eyes, too proud to rub his smarting cheek. "You don't like to hear about your screw-ups, do you? I wonder if you told Hakkai that you just stood by and watched while the Colonel had his fun with me."

"You know," Sanzo said in a lower, more controlled tone, "I had forgotten that it is impossible to carry out any kind of civilized conversation with you. Go ahead and kill yourself. I won't waste my time any longer with a stupid—"

Gojyo's punch caught Sanzo on the nose—awkward due to the target's proximity but still fairly effective. Sanzo stumbled backwards, trying to regain his balance, then fell over. He stared up at Gojyo from the floor, eyes wide in surprise, blood running down his chin.

Gojyo stared down at him, transfixed. Then, he tightened his lips and adjusted his tunic with a gesture of disdain. "I told you that I wouldn't tolerate abuse—

Sanzo was fast. One second he was on the floor; the next he was on Gojyo, sending him crashing back against the wall. Gojyo doubled over from a blow to his ribs, managed to ward off another, and swung his left arm, hitting Sanzo again more by luck than any deliberate counterattack.

Sanzo dodged a third punch to his face and grabbed Gojyo, trying to keep close to compensate for his shorter height and range disadvantage. They wrestled, maintaining eye contact, both of them now silent in their attempts to topple the other. Vaguely, Gojyo heard glass shatter and there was a moment in which he almost lost his footing; but Sanzo's eyes pulled at him, keeping him locked in their mutual embrace. When Sanzo's right hand slid to the seat of his pants, Gojyo gasped, realizing that his traitorous body had begun reacting to their proximity. Sanzo squinted at him, his expression changing minutely to one of incredulousness—and that was enough for a suddenly panicked Gojyo to throw him onto the floor, flat on his back.

Where Sanzo remained, motionless.

Gojyo glared down at him, heart thumping, his anger slowly morphing into concern. "Sanzo?" he whispered in the painful silence. "Sanzo, you okay?"

Sanzo's staring eyes were fixed on the ceiling and blood still ran from his nose. Gojyo wiped his shaking hands on his tunic, glanced at the stairs—neither Hakkai nor Goku had come down—and turned to Sanzo once more, opening his mouth to call for help. Only to close it with a gargling sound when Sanzo raised his right arm to his own line of vision.

"Sanzo?"

The staring eyes crossed then focused on something Sanzo had in his hand: Jiro's pack of cigarettes.

"You," Sanzo said in an accusatory—and perfectly normal—voice. "You had _this_ and still let me go through hell?"

Gojyo released the breath he had been holding and flopped down on the floor. His knees could not support him any longer. "Those are _mine_," he mumbled, fright and relief making him giddy. "Paws off."

Too late; Sanzo had already taken one and stuck it in his mouth. Gojyo cursed once, fumbled in his pocket for his lighter, and offered fire. Sanzo sat up, lit his cigarette with his eyes on Gojyo's, and lay down again.

"Buddha, I missed this," Sanzo said, after blowing up a long plume of smoke. "I smelled cigarette on you, but I just thought that you had peddled one from the guards."

Gojyo blinked. Sanzo was ... chatting with him?

"Jiro gave me his pack," Gojyo replied, his tone flat. "I'm trying to make it last, so take it easy."

Sanzo grunted noncommittally and felt his nose with the same fingers that held his cigarette. "I don't think it's broken," he muttered. "What about your arm?"

Gojyo stilled, stunned, then realized that unconsciously he had been cradling his left arm to his chest. It hurt. Nothing new there. "It's okay." He shrugged—that also hurt—and put the lighter away. "Where is Hakkai?"

"Upstairs." Sanzo felt his nose again. "Probably sitting on Goku by now, to give us time to settle things between us."

"What is there to be settled? I can't—"

"I went after you and Hakkai as soon as I knew that you both had been arrested," Sanzo interrupted in a lower, controlled voice. "By then, Goku had already flipped out royally—he had some kind of weird experience I have yet to understand, and was basically useless. When I managed to find where you and Hakkai were, you were gone."

Gojyo pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them. "It doesn't matter. Nothing…" _Nothing matters any more. _

"I tried to ransom you," Sanzo continued. "Spent almost a whole day chasing Xie Dewei to get a letter from him. When I arrived in the Anthill I was made to wait. And when a soldier told me to follow him I did. I was ushered into a narrow dark passage—"

"I _said _it doesn't matter," Gojyo snapped forcefully.

"—and was pointed to a slot in the wall. You were in bed with the Colonel. Of course the bastard knew I was there, and put on a show for my benefit. Just like Zenko the night I saw you together."

Silence.

"I didn't want to be there," Gojyo whispered. "How could you think—"

"I saw you answering to the Colonel's ministrations. How could I _know_?"

"Right," Gojyo spat. "Blame it on the whore."

Sanzo sighed. "That bastard staged everything. He played us both. He knew how I would react—"

"I _didn't_ want to be there," Gojyo repeated. "But yeah, I 'answered' to his ... ministrations." His voice almost broke and he undid his bootlaces to give himself time to breathe. "I was ill. I was confused. Shit, the motherfucker had me believe that Hakkai was dead!" He barked a short, mirthless laugh. "I was also very thirsty… I was so thirsty that I hurt all over and there was a bucket of water in that room. He—he let me near it and I... I couldn't—I just couldn't think." He cringed, noticing (too late, as always) that he had (again) given Sanzo ammunition for one more jab about his inability to reason.

None came.

And such a small mercy was enough to lift a bit of the huge weight he felt pressing down on his soul.

He uncurled his body as he lowered it to the floor, imitating Sanzo's flat-on-his-back position. "I want you to know that I didn't—I didn't just stand there while Zenko hurt you," he murmured. "I found Goku in the library and he had almost cut his own dick off, so I left the temple to search for you. I ran as fast as I could when I heard you scream. I may have hesitated for a second in that house, but I would never just allow him… I wouldn't let him…"

"I know," Sanzo said, his voice ridiculously calm. "But thanks for telling me anyway."

Gojyo bit his lower lip and stared at the shadows on the ceiling. In the end, everything had been about _Sanzo_. Even the Colonel's 'ministrations.' The bastard had only used him to get to Sanzo.

Everything had been—still was—about Sanzo.

Everything.

And wasn't it revealing that he had ended up more satisfied with Sanzo's thanks than with his explanation? In the end, Sanzo was that important.

_In the end we're friends_, Goku's childish voice echoed in his mind.

Friends.

And then there was that question—that capital question that he had asked Sanzo an eternity ago: _Have I misunderstood everything between us? _

And then there was the answer that had come much, much later. But which had come, nonetheless: _No._

"Sanzo?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't have a plan," Gojyo confessed. "I just want to kill the fucker. That's all."

"What about our mission?" Sanzo asked hollowly. "I know you want revenge, but personal issues—"

"You don't understand!" Gojyo interjected hotly. "It—it isn't even about me. It isn't _for _me. There was a little girl there. She was killed—" And this time his voice did break. Shit, he could not cry. Not in front of _Sanzo_.

"What about all the little girls out there?" Sanzo demanded. "The ones to whom you still can make a difference?"

Gojyo closed his eyes, feeling drained. There was no real answer for that, was there?

Sanzo did not press him further and, little by little, Gojyo began to relax. The smell of Sanzo's cigarette smoke was lulling, as well as the noise of him shifting position on the tiled floor. Soon, Gojyo felt himself drifting.

He woke with a start some unmarked while afterwards, confused and aching all over.

"Hakkai?" he called in alarm.

Then he remembered. He was in an anonymous living room in an anonymous house. And he and Sanzo had talked—had really _talked_ to each other—and now his body was stiff and sore because he had fallen asleep on the floor. Beside Sanzo.

He sat up, rubbing his neck. The lamp had been extinguished, but the room was considerably brighter—daylight leaked in through the latticed window. Sanzo had exchanged the floor for the relative comfort of a couch. Under it, Gojyo noticed, lay several cigarette butts.

"Son of a bitch!"

Sanzo mumbled something unintelligible and curled further in on himself.

Gojyo stared at the blond head for a moment, trying to ignore his contradictory feelings. He gained his feet with some difficulty—he did not recall taking off his boots—and padded to the yard, massaging his left forearm.

Morning had come.

And still he did not have a plan.

He looked at the colorful towels that he had seen Hakkai hanging on the clothesline to dry and mechanically advanced to take one. He might very well have a bath—only the gods knew when he would have another opportunity.

It could be his last.

He pulled the towel from the line and only then was he able to see it. Amidst overgrown ferns and other potted plants, a carved-on stone flowerbed stood out with nothing but humble daisies. The first sunrays were already touching them, painting them gold; the tallest stems waved gently in the breeze as if they were dancing and laughing—greeting the eternal promises of a beautiful summer day.

Promises that would never be fulfilled.

He sat on the kitchen doorstep, hid his face in his hands, and very, very softly began to cry.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

From a window on the first floor, Hakkai watched the figure on the kitchen doorstep rise to his feet and slowly cross the yard towards the outer bathroom. He had been tempted, truly tempted, to go to Gojyo and sit beside him while both of them cried—wanted to touch Gojyo and reassure him, and hear, in return, that everything would be all right. Here he was, instead, frozen in place, knowing he would not be welcomed to comfort or be comforted: like Goku, Gojyo had made it clear that he wanted distance. And though Hakkai could understand the anger—felt it himself for not being present when Sanzo had needed him the most—Gojyo's contemptuous dismissal hurt. Terribly.

He turned his back to the window.

Damn, he was afraid. He had been trying to stay calm and collected and patient while worrying about saving Gojyo's mangled arm, then worrying about having estranged Goku, then worrying about playing Sanzo's conscience, then worrying about Sanzo and how they would cope with the aftermath of Zenko's attack. Gojyo's edginess and constant bathing had not registered as abnormal behavior—water _was_ the best medicine for an ill, severely mistreated kappa. However…

He was not so sure now.

He hadchecked Gojyo's body for the tears and marks that could hint at sexual abuse. On the road back to the temple and more thoroughly in the temple itself, he _had _checked. But a good amount of time had elapsed between Gojyo's retrieval and that first bath in the kitchen. And he had been unwell himself, so he could have overlooked things. He _had_ overlooked things if Gojyo's rare moments of interaction with Sanzo were indicative of what had happened in the fortress. The sidelong looks, the charged silences, the _complicity_ with which Gojyo seemed to connect with their human on a wholly new level, signaled a shared secret or, more likely, a common experience.

A common soul-shattering experience.

Gasping for air, Hakkai slid to the floor. He was still trying to deal with the idea of that beast assaulting Sanzo, flashbacks of his time with Kanan mixing and blurring with hallucinatory images from the period of insanity that had followed her death. How was he supposed to accept that _Gojyo_ had also been…

"Raped," he murmured. Saying it aloud suddenly made it real and he started shaking, fingers pressing his eyelids shut, tears and saliva pooling on the heels of his hands. "I should have seen the signs earlier, I _should_ have…"

But he hadn't. He might very well finish what he had tried to do once and rip out his other eye. He was still as blind as he had been while trying to reach the Anthill.

A noise made him raise his head. Goku stared at him from the door, eyes wide in surprise. Concern flickered on the boyish face for a moment, then Goku frowned and Hakkai knew that whatever would come out of his mouth would not be pleasant. "Do I have your permission to go down now or should I wait until Gojyo shoots Sanzo again?" Goku demanded viciously.

Hakkai wiped his face on the cuffs of his borrowed shirt and managed a smile. Thank the gods for the things that could still be fixed and that helped him focus. For the things that would keep him on track. "Come here, please," he invited, extending a hand to Goku.

"Why?" Goku growled. "Our ride to the top of this shitheap has arrived, you know. Sanzo will—"

"Yes, I heard the horses. Please, Goku? Just a minute."

Goku stepped into the room, ignoring Hakkai's extended hand. "_What_?" he asked in a suspicious, nervous voice. "What do you want?"

Hakkai took a deep breath, uncaring of the wet, gurgling sound his nose produced. "I owe you an apology." He looked up at Goku's veiled eyes. "I know that words aren't enough to rebuild what we had; I know I'll have to prove I'm trustworthy—to work on being trustworthy. But words can be a start." He climbed to his knees, then leaned forward until his forehead touched the floor. "Please, Son Goku-sama, do forgive me."

"What?" Goku jumped backwards. "I don't—what are you talking about!"

Hakkai sat on his heels. It was liberating to finally address one of the problems that had been eating at him. "Do you remember what happened when we met midway uphill?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Goku mumbled. "Sort of. You were blind. And I was… I was confused."

"Blindness is not only a physical condition, Goku."

"What do you _mean_?" Goku huffed, stamping his foot. "Whatever you have to say, say it already!"

Hakkai sighed. "On our way up the fortress," he said, "I should have stopped you. I did nothing to prevent you from killing those soldiers, and for that I'm really, really sorry."

"You wouldn't have been able to stop _him_," Goku said after a while. "_He_ wanted blood."

Hakkai adjusted his monocle, pushing his hair forward to half-hide it. "Yes. And at the time that was very convenient for me. So I didn't even try that hard to stop _him. _And though I still think that that was the only decision I could have made considering our team as a whole, I also know I failed you on a personal level. Failed you as a friend." Goku gaped down at him. "You've been angry with me since then," Hakkai went on and offered Goku a self-derogatory smile. "Rightfully."

"I'm not…" Goku shook his head. "Okay, maybe I am. But I'm also pissed that you, all of a sudden, want Sanzo all for yourself."

"Do … I?" Hakkai whispered, surprised.

"You're _always_ after Sanzo," Goku said in an accusatory tone. "Sanzo doesn't want anybody near him these days, but when he wants company, it's _yours_. That's not fair. You should be with Gojyo—aren't you best friends? But Gojyo is always alone now and you keep tagging along with Sanzo."

"Gojyo doesn't want my company," Hakkai rasped. "Sanzo sometimes does."

"Ah, yeah, but why _you_?" Goku demanded hotly. "Why not _me_? Sanzo never has time for me now. It's always you, you, you when he wants somebody nearby. Not fair! You're also always interfering, getting in between Sanzo and me. You didn't let me go down yesterday to help Sanzo, even when you heard that he was fighting with Gojyo—"

"Goku, they needed to settle their differences. You know that Sanzo—"

"—ended up getting shot the last time they talked alone!" Goku screeched and clapped his hands together, wriggling them to the point that the joints cracked.

"Do you believe, really believe, that Gojyo would intentionally hurt Sanzo?" Hakkai asked softly. Goku shrugged, averting Hakkai's eye. "He won't," Hakkai said. "That was an accident."

"Maybe," Goku mumbled. "But my point… You see, it's _not_ up to _you_ to decide whether I'm bothering Sanzo or not. That's up to _Sanzo_. And if I am bothering him, he'll tell me to shut up or to go away or he'll shoot me himself. _You_ keep interfering, though, and youhave nothing to do with _us_."

Hakkai did not answer this tirade, his attention on Goku's hands. On his nails. Long, sharp, and uncharacteristically dirty, those nails traced old scars, scabs, and skin with frenzied determination. Hakkai remembered Sanzo saying—more than once, actually—that he would cut Goku's nails off, but then Sanzo had been too out of everything to remember to carry out the threat.

No, not a threat, Hakkai corrected himself. A promise.

"I'm sorry if I'm interfering, Goku," he offered in a meek, non-confrontational tone. "I'm just worried about Sanzo and I want to spare him from—"

"—me," Goku bristled. "You want to spare him from—"

"—the stress of having to be Sanzo all the time," Hakkai finished, unperturbed, as he gained his feet. "And, Goku, for what my opinion is worth… I don't think Sanzo would exchange what both of you have for anything. Or anybody."

Goku stared at him, hope flickering on his gaunt face. "Don't … you?"

"_Goku!_" Sanzo's irritated voice reached them from downstairs. "Breakfast is ready! Drag your ass down here now!"

Hakkai smiled. "Do you need better proof than that?"

Goku hurried to the door and Hakkai watched him go with a lighter heart. He liked children, always had. There was even a time when he, only a boy himself, had planned to start a family. There was a time when he had wanted to be a father. His dreams had been crushed along with his innocence and his sanity, but Fate had given him a dysfunctional little group to fill most of the gaps in that specific area.

He followed Goku, without caring about whatever unimportant items he might have left behind and met Sanzo and Hakuryu in the main hall.

"Good morning," he greeted cheerfully. "Did I hear correctly? Is breakfast ready?"

Sanzo glanced at him, adjusting the scriptures on his shoulders, and pointed with his chin to the table in the dining room. Goku was sitting there, making faces at a teapot and rice bowls.

"I heated the leftovers from last night," Sanzo answered. His nose was swollen, and there were other bruises on his face. "The rice smells funny, but I suppose it's still edible."

Hakkai thanked him and went to the table, without bothering to take a seat. "If you had given me one of those coins Xie Dewei returned to you, I could have gone out last night to buy us supplies—"

"_Sanzo_ said, countless times, that we must stick together no matter what," Goku hissed, annoyed. "Now _Sanzo _has already served us breakfast. Why can't you ever be pleased?"

Hakkai hesitated, between stung and amused, then reached out for the teapot. He was pouring himself a cup when Gojyo entered the room. Their eyes met for a brief moment, then Gojyo pretended to be busy with his wet hair. Too busy to say good morning.

"Xie Dewei's coach is already here," Gojyo commented to nobody in particular, approaching the window to peek at the street. "These people seem to be anxious to get rid of us."

Sanzo grunted and added, "Or they can barely wait to throw us in jail and kill us slowly."

And that could be deemed conversation, Hakkai noticed. Real, polite conversation. The first conversation Hakkai had heard Sanzo and Gojyo having with each other since only the gods knew when. It seemed that they had managed to work out a truce after all.

Goku glanced at Sanzo, at Gojyo, then at Sanzo again, the corners of his mouth curving beatifically. Hakkai looked at the boy, expecting to be included in the suggestive assessment, but Goku ignored him.

"Sanzo?" Goku called, chewing rice. "Why did you accept the coach? We could use the jeep, it would be faster."

Sanzo frowned and adjusted the sleeves of his robe with so much strength that Hakkai thought he would tear the fabric. "Hakkai, have you seen my—"

"Why not, Sanzo?" Goku insisted. "The jeep—"

"These people don't want to see my pretty face, _saru_," Gojyo intervened lightly. "Or, to be more specific, my sexy red eyes." And Gojyo batted his eyelashes at Goku. "I'm a cruel man eater, remember? They shit themselves and swoon when they see me."

Goku laughed at that, spitting rice, and Sanzo sent an approving look in Gojyo's direction. Hakkai stilled completely at the unexpected, confused surge of jealousy that choked him at such a scene, and carefully lowered his cup to the table.

"Gojyo?" Goku called, still chortling. "Can you do that again?"

There was an answer and there was more laughter, but Hakkai was no longer paying attention. He slipped through the kitchen and into the yard, willing his mind to focus on the little world around him and not on the cozy episode from which he had been so blatantly excluded. The kitchen door needed paint and oiling. Somebody had forgotten a small rake in one of the flowerbeds. It was already a beautiful summer day and a tiny yellow butterfly fluttered around the garden, searching for nectar.

The knot in his throat only marginally less painful, he stepped into the dark bathroom, squelched through the watery mess that Gojyo had made on the floor, and quickly relieved and washed himself. On his way out, he caught the soaking wet towel Gojyo had dropped into a bucket and hung it on the clothesline to dry. Like he used to do when both of them lived together.

"Hakkai?" Sanzo thundered from inside. "Hakkai, we're going!"

The yellow butterfly brushed his nose and he tilted his head upwards, managing a smile at the very blue sky.

"Hakkai!"

He walked back inside and surveyed the now deserted dining room. Bowls, cups, and the teapot had been sloppily left on the table. He took them back to the kitchen then, bracing himself, went out. The street was packed with soldiers, most of them already mounted. A coach was waiting nearby and a glimpse of golden hair could be seen in one of its windows.

"You're late, hon," a familiar voice drawled over his shoulder. Hakkai turned, startled, and Zhou Jun leered down at him. "Sanzo is quite ready to tan your youkai behind for misbehavior. Do you think he'll let me watch?"

Hakkai blinked, having some difficulty processing the outrageous question. "If you'll excuse me, Sergeant…" He began walking towards the coach. "I'm late, as you've already noted."

Zhou Jun snorted and caught up with him after a few steps. "You're not angry with me because of that practical joke in Major Wang's boarding house, are you? That would be a shame."

"'Shame' isn't a word that I would associate with your person, Sergeant," Hakkai retorted, his voice clipped.

"Honestly, Hakkai! That's what I gain for keeping your true nature to myself? What an ungrateful little demon you are!"

"Go to your superior officers, Sergeant, and tell them about me. Also, since you're so keen on rightful explanations, don't forget to explain to them the circumstances in which Sergeant Chen Dan was killed. I can help you out with the details, in case you've forgotten them."

Zhou Jun laughed. "Nah, my superior officers already have enough problems to deal with. And, as poor Chen Dan would say himself, life is too short for this shit." With a bow, he opened the coach door for Hakkai. "Hop in. Alas, I won't be a member of your party… Though my member certainly wants to party with all of you."

Sanzo poked his head out of the open door. "Still playing the comedian, Sergeant?" he asked in a sullen tone. "Leave my men alone."

"So you can have them all for yourself, Servant of Buddha?" Zhou Jun taunted. "Damn, what I wouldn't give to watch that!" And Hakkai felt a pinch on his buttocks as he climbed into the coach. Sanzo cursed, and leaned forward to push Zhou Jun away.

The coach had two seats facing each other; Sanzo had chosen the one with its back to the driver, as, predictably, had Goku. Hakuryu had settled between them, which left Gojyo's seat. Gojyo, who had his face pointedly turned to his window. Hakkai sat in front of Sanzo, suddenly quite aware that he had given Zhou Jun a chance to accost his teammates.

"What happened to your nose, Sanzo?" Zhou Jun asked. "One of your boys got too eager last night?" And he grinned toothily at Goku.

"Okay, that's it." Sanzo pulled out his gun and aimed it between Zhou Jun's eyes. "Any other joke you would like to share with us, Sergeant?"

Zhou Jun held both of his hands in the air, palms out in surrender. "Hey, hey, relax, Sanzo, relax. Cool down, eh? Where did you get that?"

"The Colonel handed us this himself," Sanzo lied evenly. "He gave it to Gojyo, so Gojyo could kill me. And since he didn't ask for it back when we left the Anthill, I don't believe he will mind if I actually use it."

Zhou Jun snorted, his eyes darting between the gun to Sanzo's determinate face. "Ah, the Colonel has a mean sense of humor, hon. I don't think—"

"I will count to three, Sergeant. If you're still standing there, holding us up to vomit your filth, I'll put a bullet right in your mouth. One…"

"You're going to shoot your own foot with that thing, Sanzo; you don't know how to use it. That's a man's toy—"

"…two…"

"All right, all right, no need to ruffle your feathers, hon. I'm not going with you to the Anthill, okay?" Zhou Jun's grin wavered. "I wanted … wanted to say good-bye. Just take care, hmm? I'll be thinking of you and your little demons when I go to bed tonight." He bowed and closed the door, laughing.

"Sanzo?" Goku gaped at the door. "What did he mean by that? Why will he think of us tonight? Sanzo?"

"What were you doing in that fucking house?" Sanzo hissed, staring at Hakkai. "We could have been spared such a scene, if at least you had walked with us _and_ Captain Wu Tai when he came knocking."

"Sorry, I—"

"Let's go, driver," Sanzo cut him off with a shout and a blow to the roof. "_Now_!" He pushed his hair out of his face and lowered his voice to a dangerous pitch, "I thought we all had an agreement about straying? If you had any problem in understanding what this word means, Hakkai, I could have drawn pictures for you."

"Sanzo, I just—" Hakuryu jumped to his lap and Hakkai pulled the dragon against his chest, trying to take the least space possible on the seat. "I was just—"

"He was taking a piss, monk," Gojyo interrupted coldly. "Leave him be."

Hakkai looked at Gojyo, surprised by the unexpected support, but Gojyo still had his face turned. Sanzo cursed under his breath and sagged back on his seat, mercifully saying nothing else.

The coach began navigating through the narrow streets, and Hakkai, little by little, got engrossed in the scenery. Signs of destruction could be seen everywhere and the few people who milled about had somber expressions. The exception to the general gloom were the children who played around the colorful tents put up in the bigger parks—which seemed to be serving as provisory lodgings for displaced families. When the coach and its escort took a steep dirt path, their surroundings gradually grew poorer and sparer until there was nothing around but rocks and shrubs.

And the fortress, towering over them from above.

Goku's fidgeting also became more pronounced. With his back to the driver, he seemed unable to keep from slipping forward as the coach kept going up.

"Do you want to change places?" Hakkai asked him. "I don't mind."

Goku glanced at Sanzo's frown and shook his head. "We're almost there, aren't we?" he asked, desperate to hear an affirmative.

"Yes," Hakkai obliged, squinting up through his own window. "That thing is already falling apart." Hakuryu butted against his hand and let out an impatient sound. "Well, forgive me for stating the obvious," Hakkai said. "But don't forget that I couldn't see anything the last time I took the tour."

_That _sparked a reaction from Gojyo. Hakkai could feel the red eyes on him, assessing. He did not turn to meet the glare, though. The coach reached and passed through an open gate, and soon they were riding on even paved ground.

"We've arrived," Goku announced, bouncing in his seat. "Sanzo, can I—"

"Let me repeat this," Sanzo interrupted in his best commanding tone. "_No straying_. We stick together, no matter what. If this _is _a trap, wait for my order to attack. Then kill."

Hakkai nodded curtly and noticed that both Gojyo and Goku had similarly set expressions.

Their vehicle was brought to a halt and the voices around them grew both in volume and number. Sanzo pushed the coach door open and climbed out, his hand on his breastplate where he had his gun stashed. Goku followed suit, then it was Hakkai's turn, with Hakuryu on his shoulder. Gojyo took more time and when he did step down, he was pale, his lips tightly pressed together. He seemed … sick.

Hakkai refrained himself from reaching out for him and focused on the tableau the humans had put on instead. Soldiers swarmed around, all intent on them but mainly keeping their distance. The large group of civilians, some still sitting on wagons, was a pleasant novelty—Hakkai recognized two bureaucrats from Xie Dewei's entourage, but it was the presence of women and children that eased some of his tension. Why bring them over if they were planning an attack?

"Ah, Sanzo-sama!" Xie Dewei advanced towards Sanzo holding the hat he wore to prevent it from being carried away by the wind. "Did you have a good rest? I'm still tired from our journey, but then I'm an old man, unused to such stunts. Unlike you, _ne_?" A pause. "What happened to your nose?"

"Where's Jiro?" Sanzo asked bluntly. "He has things that belong to me."

Xie Dewei's fake smile wavered. "The youkai wasn't invited to the, uh, ceremony, Sanzo-sama," he said. "Whatever your dealings with it are, they will have to wait until you perform the job I have paid you for."

To prevent Sanzo from delivering his riposte, Hakkai had to step hurriedly forward and butt in. "Good morning, Xie-sama," he said, bowing. "Thank you for lodging us last evening. And for today's ride. Your thoughtfulness was greatly appreciated. Perhaps you would be kind enough to extend your generosity and arrange us a meeting with Jiro-san?"

Xie Dewei cast him an annoyed look and shrugged. "My men will escort you down and to the outskirts of our hill afterwards," he said, his eyes pointedly back on Sanzo. "If you wish to talk to Jiro, Sanzo-sama, or retrieve whatever it stole from you, I'll tell them to take you—and your mouthy servants, of course—to it first."

"I didn't say that Jiro stole…" Sanzo trailed off and pinched his swollen nose with his fingertips. "Never mind. Let's begin this shit already. The sooner I finish here, the sooner I can resume my mission."

"Ah, yes, of course, Sanzo-sama," Xie Dewei concurred, "we can't make the gods wait. They're already angry with us, _ne_? The building was evacuated and, as per your specific demand, the Colonel isn't here. Do you need anything else? I can—"

"Peace and space," Sanzo responded with sarcasm. "This crowd must go. As well as you."

Xie Dewei shook his head, his patronizing smile back in place. "Now, now, Sanzo-sama, I'm sure we can accommodate things so my guests can watch your performance. This is a historic moment for us and the finest of our society have come—"

"Peace and space, Xie-san," Sanzo repeated. "Unless you want your finest crushed under tons of stone or swallowed by earth?"

"I don't think it'll come to that, Sanzo-sama!"

"Are you willing to take the risk?" Sanzo asked sarcastically. "If so, I want you to put down on paper that my team and I are exempt from any responsibility should someone be killed."

"This is—" Visibly torn, Xie Dewei pulled his hat off with impatience. "We were expecting some action, Sanzo-sama! Our Festival was ruined and we—"

"Had you not enough of a show with your recent carnage, Xie-san? Do you want to add more corpses to the pile you already have?"

Xie Dewei grimaced, then turned, waving to one of his officers. "Just do whatever you must do, Sanzo-sama, and let's get this over with," he snarled as he walked back to his colorful group. An officer met him midway and Hakkai watched as Xie Dewei gestured in the direction of the fortress.

"They will go down," Sanzo whispered. "He won't take the risk."

"_Is_ there any risk?" Goku demanded, squinting at the humans. "Sanzo?"

There was some commotion in the group of civilians; then, it slowly started backing down.

Goku clapped his hands, jumping excitedly. "There the fuckers go! Yeah! Sanzo? Is there a risk? Is there? Sanzo?"

From a pocket, Sanzo took the crumpled pack of cigarettes that Hakkai had seen in Gojyo's hands. "Goku, I'll throw you downhill myself if you don't shut up."

Hakkai sighed and looked at Gojyo—who had wandered to the low stone wall that surrounded the perimeter of the fortress and now stared at the abyss.

"Are you going to start the ritual now, Sanzo?" Goku insisted. "Are you?"

Hakkai studied Sanzo's face, asserted that there was no immediate danger to _Goku_, and left them to their own dance. He took his time walking to Gojyo, leaned on the low wall with trepidation—the view was splendid, but a fall would be fatal—and turned to watch the humans' retreat. "It seems there was no hidden agenda, after all," he commented. "Thank the gods." Hakuryu chirped, pecked softly at his neck, and took flight, landing atop one of the pillars of the iron gate.

There was a long moment of silence and Hakkai thought that Gojyo would ignore his lame attempt to strike up conversation. Then Gojyo asked him a question, barely audible over the wind and the noise of voices and horses: "What did you mean when you said that you weren't able to see this shit the first time you were here?"

"Ah, that!" Hakkai smiled, relieved to no end at hearing a whole sentence and not one of the grunted monosyllables Gojyo had been using. "My eye played a trick on me that night. Fortunately, I had Goku to help me out."

"Because of the bullet you took to your head," Gojyo said grimly, turning to Hakkai. "The bullet that was meant for me."

"No, Gojyo, it happened because Zhou Jun slammed my head against the floor." The civilians were gone now, and some of the soldiers. "But, and I suppose that you'll like to know this, Bully-san is dead."

"What?" Stunned, Gojyo lowered his voice further. "You killed him?"

"No," Hakkai answered calmly. "Zhou Jun did it. It seems Sanzo will start the purification."

Sanzo had approached the fortress, Goku on his heels. Both looked minuscule against the massive closed doors.

"Should we go—" Hakkai detached his body from the low wall, eyeing the few soldiers who were still around.

"Unless you're willing to introduce your ass to the ground, don't," Gojyo advised with indifference. "Sanzo doesn't like dramatics, but as soon as the scriptures get their power released… Yep, there goes Goku."

Goku had stumbled several steps as if shoved away from Sanzo by an invisible hand. He managed to regain his balance, tried to reach Sanzo again, then let out an outraged shriek when he was slammed to his knees.

"He's too close," Gojyo muttered, shifting his attention back to the abyss. "The little shit never learns."

Hakkai nodded and pressed a hand against his chest—he could feel a vague discomfort building up there. It seemed that he, too, was too close. "He's improving, don't you think?" he asked, trying to catch his breath.

"Who? Sanzo or Goku?"

"Goku," Hakkai choked out, the discomfort suddenly morphing into outright pain.

"Sanzo is reacting all right, too," Gojyo said in an unfriendly tone, apparently immune to the purging energy Sanzo was setting loose. "Congratulations, you're doing a good job."

There was a rumbling tremor under their feet. Hakkai could hear frightened shouts from where Xie Dewei's guests had withdrawn. "What—what do you mean?" he panted, eyeing Goku with concern. The boy had his hands over his ears, mouth wide open in a silent scream. "Gojyo, I think Goku is—"

"Cut the crap, Hakkai!" Gojyo snarled. "I know you're together, okay? I saw you both in the library—"

"You mean … you mean Sanzo and I?" _What is this, oh gods, where did this come from? And my chest… I can't breathe! _ "We weren't … oh, damn," he wheezed. "Gojyo, Goku… Goku needs help…"

"Even he knows you two are sleeping together."

"What?"

Gojyo did not answer. Hakkai saw him whirl around, wide-eyed. "Fuck, what—_what does that fake priest think he's doing? _Hakkai read on his lips.

"I'm not…" Hakkai trailed off when the tremor grew stronger. There was a deafening noise when the top of one of the towers crumbled onto a lower wing and dust clouded the scene. And though Sanzo seemed quite indifferent to the destruction around him, Goku was flopping on the ground as if having some kind of seizure. "Goku…"

Half-doubled in pain himself, Hakkai rushed over to the boy. Ghostly voices started whispering in his ears, disembodied hands grabbed and slapped him, laughter mixed with all-too-earthly screams.

"Goku?" he called desperately. "Goku, can you—" He looked at Sanzo—just a form enveloped in dust and white light—and tried to call out. He could feel, more than hear, a deep rumble under his feet, then it happened. Hakkai threw his head backwards, his body convulsing, when all the noise that surrounded him culminated in an explosion that seemed to be erupting from the very core of his soul. He screamed, or tried to, and fell forward.

** o o o**

"Hakkai?" a voice eventually reached him, pulling him from the murky nothing in which he floated. "Hakkai, wake up."

He knew that voice…

"Hakkai? Come on, open your eyes."

He swallowed convulsively, tasting dust. "Sanzo? What—"

"Goku is hurt."

That, and Sanzo's panicked tone, was the incentive he needed to move. He sat up, shaking off the layer of dust and debris that had covered him.

Goku was limp in Sanzo's arms, bleeding from his nose and ears.

"You okay?" Sanzo rasped, still visibly high from the energy he had channeled.

"Yes, I…" Hakkai shook his head, at a loss. Something was different. Very different. He gaped at his surroundings, amazed by the change. _Relieved _by it. It was like a barely-there noise that went on and on and on had been finally turned down. There was just…

Silence.

"It's done," Sanzo said, having no problem in understanding his mute question. He cradled Goku closer to his body. "It's over."

Hakkai nodded and turned to where he had left Gojyo. Wanting to see on Gojyo's face the knowledge that some kind of redemption had at last been achieved.

"Sanzo?" he croaked, suddenly dizzy with horror. "Sanzo, _where the fuck is Gojyo_?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

The question did not make immediate sense. With his body still buzzing in the aftermath of the energy it had conjured, Sanzo had to think carefully about every gesture or word. He tightened the hold he had on Goku and stared at Hakkai—dirty, frantic Hakkai—focusing on cracked lips that now formed a single word, over and over and over:

Gojyo.

A faint touch on his chest and Sanzo looked down. Goku blinked up at him, dazed eyes crossing. Admittedly his demons had been too close during the purification, but keeping together _had _to be a priority—even if that meant a few minutes of severe pain.

"What happened?" Goku mouthed soundlessly, his teeth tinted with blood. Hakuryu circled them once and landed in front of Hakkai, uncoordinatedly flapping his wings.

Sanzo eased Goku down to the ground and stood. To his left, soldiers rushed in the direction that Xie Dewei's party had taken. Perhaps there were screams, perhaps there was crying. He was not sure. The only sound he could process right now was Hakkai's agonized, desperate call:

Gojyo.

And then Hakkai, failing to get to his feet, reached out for his robe and tugged at it, gesturing to a point where sky framed the edge of the abyss. Gojyo had been leaning _there_, Sanzo knew. He had checked his teammates' whereabouts before starting the ritual. Gojyo had been there. Right where there was no longer a protection wall.

Right where there was nothing.

"…not seeing Gojyo!" Hakkai's words finally made sense. "Sanzo, where is he? We have to find him!"

Sanzo freed himself from Hakkai's grasp and started for the edge, only marginally aware that, in order for him to move, _Goku_ had to restrain Hakkai. He approached the crumbling border unmindful of any potential risks and stared, frozen. The void extended above and below him in an appalling fusion of blue skies and a slope of row upon row of rooftops. And, despite his horror, that silly inner voice that always, always taunted him in such moments whispered in the back of his mind: _Jump! _

Jump.

He closed his eyes for a moment, nauseated, desperately afraid for Gojyo. Things could not just end like this for them. Things would_ not_ just end like this for any of them!

"_Gojyo!_" he suddenly howled, sagging to his knees.

The name seemed to go on forever, hanging in the clean morning air. And when it finally died away, so did Sanzo's capacity for rational thought. His mind went blank.

"Sanzo?"

Reality began intruding upon him again little by little. He was cold. Shivering. His hands hurt—he had them fisted in the dirt and loose cobblestones had cut his right palm.

He was bleeding.

"Sanzo?"

Behind him he could hear Hakkai, still calling for Gojyo, sounding hysterical. Could hear Hakuryu's shrieks and Goku's coarse pleas for calm. Could hear…

"Sanzo!"

Way past words, Sanzo gaped down. Gojyo squinted up at him from a rocky ledge a few meters below.

Sanzo had to swallow several times to find his voice again. "Can you—can you climb back?" he managed to rasp. "I—no, wait, don't move. We will—" And he looked over his shoulder. Both Goku and Hakuryu were trying to drag Hakkai to a safer distance now—probably out of fear of a suicide plunge.

"Don't," Gojyo warned him. "Don't call them."

Sanzo turned back to him, surprised, and leaned further over the edge. "Why not? Can you climb—"

"Yes, I suppose." Gojyo shrugged and massaged his left arm. "But I won't."

"What?" Sanzo scowled, relief starting to give way to annoyance. "Fuck, it's impossible to have a conversation like this. I can barely hear what you're—"

"Go," Gojyo said coldly. "Just go and take Hakkai with you. Don't let him…" The rest was lost when Gojyo turned his back to survey the rocks further below.

Sanzo cursed under his breath. As a strategist who knew how to take advantage of unexpected factors himself, he recognized the opening to evade the soldiers that Gojyo was waiting for. And it was such a stroke of luck—or subtle planning—that his 'death' not only could grant the rest of the Sanzo-ikkou safe departure, but could also take him very close to his enemy. Sanzo lifted an eyebrow at Gojyo in reluctant admiration.

"Sanzo!" Hakkai's shaky voice reached him. "Sanzo, do you see him? Sanzo?"

Sanzo spared Hakkai a glance. Struggling under Goku's 'care,' his hair gray with dust, Hakkai was a portrait of utter despair. How could anyone possibly have the smallest doubt that a tragedy had happened after looking at Hakkai or hearing him call out?

Yes, Gojyo had a very good plan, indeed.

One that, maybe, would grant him his revenge against the Colonel.

Sanzo took a deep breath. And stared at the void.

_Jump! _

Gojyo _was _an honorable warrior. He had the right to go after the man who had tortured him. The man who had raped him.

It was his right and his choice to—

_Jump! _

—seek revenge.

"_Gojyo!_ Please, Sanzo, do you see him? Sanzo?"

Poor, poor Hakkai. Hakkai was crying as he…

(_…called…_) 

Hakkai and Goku would have to believe Gojyo dead. At least for a while. A devastated Hakkai would be Sanzo's answer to Xie Dewei's officers … and maybe to the Colonel's uncommon abilities in case these people grew suspicious. Besides, a devastated Hakkai would be easier to handle. Sanzo would then be able to—

_Jump!_

—steer the rest of his team to safety.

"Sanzo, please? _Please? _Where is he?"

Hakkai dropped his head for a moment, giving up his struggle against Goku's superior strength. Then he looked at Sanzo as he…

(_…waited…_) 

Sanzo averted his eyes. If he were to give Gojyo any advantage in this dangerous game, he had better play his part. He had to—

_Jump! _

—turn his back on Gojyo now.

"Sanzo! Did you look further down for him? Sanzo? You didn't—"

(_…come._)

Sanzo swallowed dry. _Turn your back._

He had promised himself that he would not—

_Jump! _

—do that. Not again. Never again.

He stood.

And stepped forward into the air.

For an endless moment he hovered in absolute nothing, absolutely free. Then Gojyo, who might or might not have screamed his name during his flight, caught him by his left arm and slammed him against a rock on his precarious ledge. Gojyo was also speaking—yelling, actually, if the frantic movements of his mouth and his red face were something to go by. Sanzo was not hearing him… He was listening to the wind—the wind that sang in his ears and that caressed Gojyo's hair.

Gojyo's cursed, strange, pariah's red hair.

Sanzo felt himself being shaken and had to consciously focus on the effort of translating whatever point Gojyo was trying to make.

"…you crazy _fuck_! Are you fucking _nuts_, monk? What the _fucking_ hell…"

Not very imaginative, but still eloquent.

"Do you want to kill yourself, you fucking asshole?" Gojyo went on, his eyes glittering in fury. "Is that it? Want me to feel guilty?"

Sanzo laughed at that. Gojyo's face was very red now… Red as his hair, his eyes, his mouth.

His mouth…

"Do you think this is funny, motherfucker?" Gojyo hissed, his nostrils flaring. "Or am I being 'stupid' for—"

Sanzo closed the distance between them, yanked Gojyo's head down and pressed his lips against that inviting mouth. He had never, _ever_ done that to anyone; in a way, such an act was more intimate than a quick fuck with one of the anonymous strangers he picked up from time to time. It felt odd and awkward and perversely exciting—a step in the wrong direction and both of them would fall to their deaths. He breathed Gojyo's startled gasp in and _that _provoked an immediate reaction in his groin. "You talk too much, half-breed," he muttered as he pulled away.

"Why—why did you do that?" Gojyo stuttered, his eyes very wide. "Why did you…" and he trailed off, unable to continue. Equally affected, it seemed.

"Oh, my intention wasn't clear enough?" Sanzo purred. "Don't tell me that you've never been kissed."

"I'm not—fuck, _why_!"

Sanzo shrugged, only vaguely aware of the discomfort in his left shoulder. Gojyo had almost wrenched his arm from its socket while 'saving' him and that would certainly hurt like a bitch when the energy high he was still experiencing ran down. "I won't walk away," he said, wondering if later he would also regret kissing Gojyo while … drunk.

"I can't believe this!" Gojyo snarled angrily. "I can't fucking believe this! Just go, okay? Go to Hakkai—"

"Do you think that Hakkai will just meekly follow me out of this town?" Sanzo asked in a neutral tone. His cut hand had left a smear of blood on Gojyo's neck and he felt strangely satisfied at seeing such a personal mark on the kappa. "If I tell him that you're well and just trying to find a way to get to the Colonel, he'll stick around to help you out, no matter what I say. If I tell him that you're dead—which, I believe, would be the most expedient solution for all involved—he will have to be forced to abandon the search for your corpse."

"You're resourceful, I'm sure you'll deal with him," Gojyo replied, sarcasm not hiding his uneasiness. "With his best interests in mind, of course."

"Ironic, isn't it, that you're giving me permission to play on Hakkai the same dirty trick that the Colonel played on you?"

Gojyo averted his eyes to the void below, biting his lower lip.

"You're forgetting a little detail, though," Sanzo said in the same calm tone he had used so far. "Hakkai has nothing to do with this. You're a member of _my_ team. You answer to _me_. Therefore, we are going to settle this. You and I."

"Oh, really?" Gojyo snorted in a mixture of incredulity and contempt. "Are _you_ forgetting that you kicked me out of your—"

"Gojyo, I was angry at the time."

"And I'm angry _now_."

Sanzo frowned. Over the noise of the wind, he seemed to be hearing Goku shrieking his name, which meant they did not have much time left. "What else do you want, Gojyo?" he asked dully. "A written apology? Because—"

"I wanted _you_, you bastard!" Gojyo blurted out. "And you had to go and fuck Hakkai. _Hakkai_, of all people!"

Sanzo stared at him, too wrung out to be properly surprised or outraged. "Gojyo," he said, dropping his voice to a dangerous whisper, "unless you cracked your head when you fell down here—"

"I didn't fall, I just decided to seize the opportunity to—"

"—or I cracked my head when I decided to climb down—"

"You didn't 'climb down,' you fucking moron, you _jumped_! You tried to kill yourself—"

"—then we're definitely not on the same page. I don't have the slightest idea of what you're talking about."

"Right," Gojyo sneered. "So both you and Hakkai are denying your little affair? Fine by me. But I know you've slept together, so don't treat me as the stupid demon you think I am."

"Slept together," Sanzo repeated quietly. "I thought that the Colonel had told you that Hakkai was dead. Did he also tell you that Hakkai and I were lovers?"

"I really, really don't have time for this shit now." Gojyo crouched, surveying the edge of their little plateau. "Knock it off, okay?"

"I shared a room with Hakkai in Wu Tai's prison, but we never—"

"It doesn't matter if someone told me this or if I saw it myself. It. Doesn't. Matter."

"_Someone_?" Sanzo shook his head, searching his memories. There had been another occasion on which Hakkai had shared his bed. Back in the temple. When Hakkai had come to heal him and Goku… "Someone as in _Goku_, for instance?"

"Look, just leave this town and keep to the main road for a while. I'll try to catch up with you later—"

"Either Goku told you this," Sanzo insisted, "or you were hallucinating. There's no way in hell you would see something that didn't happen otherwise."

"—as soon as I finish that bastard."

"_If_ you finish that bastard," Sanzo corrected lightly. "Gojyo. How can you think that Hakkai would betray you like that? He is your friend. He—" _told me you love me. _"—would die for you."

Gojyo raised his haunted eyes to Sanzo and did not answer. From above, Goku's voice sounded again with a definitive tinge of hysteria.

"Goku is … very literal with words," Sanzo continued. "He saw Hakkai in my bed once, yes. _Sleeping_. Hakkai was exhausted and worried sick about _you_, and he came to my room to treat my bullet wound. He ended up dozing in my bed. That was all. Ask Hakkai … or better yet, ask _Goku_, since you don't trust Hakkai. Goku will confirm the circumstances. Shit, according to this particular brand of logic, you and Goku have also slept together. You both shared a bed, right? Should I shoot you for corrupting my charge?"

"I saw you with Hakkai in the library," Gojyo said flatly, pushing his hair back behind his ears.

"Library?" Sanzo repeated. Buddha, he was _tired _now. And well on his way to a fucking migraine. It was always like that when he unleashed the power of the scriptures.

"After Xie Dewei's visit," Gojyo said, his tone dejected. "On the eve of our departure. Pick your clue. Was I 'hallucinating' then?"

Sanzo turned his cut palm up and stared at it as images of a darkened hall flickered in his mind. Hakkai had been trying to comfort him in the library. And had been so poignantly gentle that Sanzo had taken his hand and brought it to his lips. The touch had not been sexual—not like the scene at the well in the old major's boarding house—but still… How could he deny that Hakkai gave him a sense of utter, perfect peace?

It was something inexplicable. And, yet, fundamentally important.

"No. You weren't hallucinating." And Sanzo fisted his hand. "Hakkai and I… We became closer during this whole ordeal. If I were the smart guy I like to believe I am I would beg him to be by my side forever."

Gojyo nodded, his resigned half-smile unable to hide his disappointment. Or his sadness. "Uh, oh, okay." He cleared his throat and slid further to the edge "But I will kill you if you hurt him, monk. I swear to you that I will. Hakkai deserves only the very best—"

"I agree. But you know what?" Sanzo crouched in front of Gojyo. "I'm not that smart. And I'm not the very best. And between the peace of a sanctuary and a flight down an abyss… I'll jump into the abyss." And he reached out and touched Gojyo's hair.

Gojyo stared at him, aghast.

"Sanzo!" Goku called from above and Sanzo tilted his head up. There were tears on Goku's ashen face. "Shit, are you all right? Sanzo? I thought you had—oh gods, Sanzo, I thought you both were dead!"

"Find us a rope," Sanzo ordered, straightening. He extended a hand to Gojyo, who took it, still open-mouthed. "We're going to rise from the dead. The both of us."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

"It's hot in here," Goku said, climbing to his knees on the coach seat to press his nose against the window. A few meters away, Sanzo still talked to Xie Dewei, a hand shielding his face from the sun, while soldiers and civilians strolled about, some pointing at the fortress. The fortress… "It'll fall for good any minute now," Goku commented, trying to suppress the overwhelming need to run to Sanzo. He turned to Gojyo, instead, hitting him unintentionally with his booted feet. "Wanna bet?"

"What?" Gojyo took his eyes off Hakkai—who was quiet and uncharacteristically limp on the seat in front of them—and frowned at him. "What did you say?"

"The _fortress_," Goku snapped. His voice sounded odd in the stuffy space of the coach and he swallowed hard before adding, "I bet it will crumble like a house of cards at any minute."

Gojyo nodded indifferently and averted his attention back to Hakkai. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Not fair, Gojyo!" Goku said, sitting back beside Gojyo with a huff. "I bet that it will fall, so you'll have to bet it won't."

"Okay," Gojyo muttered. "It won't."

Goku stared at him, outraged, but did not comment further. Gojyo looked nervous, ill, and paradoxically more centered than Goku had seen him in months. Strange.

"Fuck, it's hot in here!" Goku whined again, drumming his fingers on the seat.

No answer.

He dug his nails into the soft padding, tearing it. On Hakkai's lap, Hakuryu sent him a scathing look, disapproving the act of vandalism. Goku stuck out his tongue at the dragon and focused on ashen-faced Hakkai. Half-sitting, half-laying on his seat, Hakkai seemed to be asleep. From time to time, though, he would pat Hakuryu, shattering the impression of someone resting: his hands were still shaking. Badly. And it was very disturbing to watch Hakkai, usually so calm, so collected, tremble like an old man.

No wonder Gojyo was worried about him.

Hakkai had lost it, had really lost it when he thought Gojyo dead. Goku had been forced to hit him, otherwise Hakkai would have jumped into the abyss screaming Gojyo's name. The punch to Hakkai's stomach had felt strangely liberating at the moment, but now…

Now Goku felt guilty.

And not only about hurting Hakkai physically. He had been treating Hakkai like shit, rejoicing in the distress, always quickly hidden, that words could provoke. He had said some pretty insulting things to Hakkai the previous night, angry for being stopped from going to Sanzo's aid when Gojyo had started another fight with their human. Yet Hakkai had acted all breezy-easy with him this morning—damn, Hakkai had _apologized _to him, when Goku should be the one saying sorry.

"Hey, Hakkai?" he called timidly, pulling a loose thread from his pants. "Are you awake?"

Hakkai just tightened his eyelids further.

"Okay, don't answer if you don't want to," Goku said more forcefully. "Just listen. I—" He jumped, startled, when Gojyo cuffed his head. "Ouch! What did you do that for?"

"Settle down, _saru_," Gojyo growled. "Give us all a break, all right?"

Goku sent him his best imitation of Sanzo's Glare, rubbing his ears—still sensitive, still hurting in the aftermath of the purification episode—then turned to the window once more when Gojyo did not react to his rightful indignation. Time to check on Sanzo again. He gasped, alarmed. Xie Dewei stood alone in the courtyard. There was no Sanzo. No Sanzo anywhere. "Shit," he panted, fumbling for the door, his heart thumping. "Shit, I don't see him anymore! Gojyo, Sanzo is gone! We must—come on, Hakkai, wake up! Sanzo is—"

The door was opened by someone outside and Sanzo poked his head into the coach.

"—here," Gojyo said softly, his voice lacking the tone that would make any joke effective.

"Sanzo, are you all right?" Goku demanded. "Are you?" Sanzo did not even spare him a glance. Sanzo focused on _Hakkai _instead, then exchanged a cryptic look with Gojyo. "What?" Goku wailed, desperate to have Sanzo acknowledge his presence. "What is it, Sanzo?"

Sanzo hopped in beside Hakkai—who did not stir from his slouch—and closed the door with a relieved sigh. "We're going to see Jiro," he said tiredly. "Then we're out of this hell. It seems Xie Dewei was speaking the truth, after all. Good for us … and them."

Gojyo tensed, on the verge of saying something. Sanzo raised an eyebrow at him, defying the kappa to say something, and knocked on the roof, setting the coach in motion. Gojyo sustained Sanzo's stare and only sagged on his seat when Hakkai finally fixed his eye on him.

Unable to understand the signals being sent back and forth, Goku pulled one more thread from his pants, rested his throbbing forehead on the window and started clicking his tongue to the rhythm of the horse's hooves. _That _attracted Sanzo's attention to him.

"Sorry," he muttered, between appeased and ashamed. He kicked something with his left foot and leaned forward to check on it. Their improvised luggage. He picked the small bundle up and rummaged through it, more to give himself something to do than to satisfy any real curiosity. There were no clothes, only a few easily disposable items, like toothbrushes and razors. And there was the red silk sack with the gold coins that Xie Dewei had returned to Sanzo. They had forgotten this small fortune in the coach while Sanzo was performing his exorcism—had someone stolen it, they would probably only notice its disappearance hours afterwards. He pressed the sack against his chest and dropped the rest of their unimportant luggage between himself and Gojyo, determined to keep Sanzo's money safe.

The scenery changed slowly. And as rocks and shrubs gave way to houses, the horse's pace grew slower. Soon enough, they were navigating through busy streets and Goku smiled at the destruction around them. It served these humans right. He blinked when he saw what could only be a ship stranded in the middle of a plaza. "Sanzo!" he yelled excitedly, pointing at the window. "There's a ship there! Look, Sanzo! A ship! There's a ship!"

"It isn't a real ship," Sanzo answered, unimpressed. "It's an abandoned float from the festival."

Goku gaped again at the ship, and then froze. Because standing on the deck, silk green dress shining in the sun, _she _smiled at him.

"…headache, Goku," Sanzo was saying. "I would appreciate if you stopped screaming. Don't make me…" Goku was not hearing anything any longer. He shoved the coach door open and jumped to the street, grimacing in pain when the jarring move woke all the aches and pains in his body. Fuck, had not all the uneasy spirits of this town been put to rest? Sent to whatever place spirits should go?

What was _she_ still doing here?

"Goku!" Sanzo shouted behind him. "Come back here _now_!"

He would not obey this time. Could not obey this time. He ran towards the ship, his right hand extended in front of him to fend off the humans who got on his way. He was not fast enough to avert a fruit cart, though, and the collision resulted in peaches and oranges being spilt in all directions.

"Damn, boy, are you crazy?" the vendor snarled. "Help me pick up these—"

"Goku!" Sanzo called again, sounding closer. And really, really pissed off.

Goku moaned, stepped hurriedly back, and this time bumped into a wagon. Something came loose with a ripping noise and fell down at his feet. For a moment he could only stare at the flung open mouth of the thing—a disproportionate mouth that showed two rows of sharp white fangs. "What?"

"_Goku!_"

Goku clenched his fists and a cheery clinking noise reminded him that he was still holding Sanzo's coins. With trepidation, he scooped the wooden puppet from the ground, dusted its red mop, and hung it again on its improvised stage. From there, jaws slack in a deathly grin, the youkai monster presided over the chaos around it. A very different ending to the original story Goku had watched being staged at this very place.

"Hey, kid, stop playing with those fucking puppets and help me," the fruit vendor grunted. "You ruined—"

"Goku! Son of a bitch!"

Sanzo.

Goku darted over to the ship, ignoring the angry calls behind him.

There was no sign of _her_ presence now.

"Where are you?" he screamed, surveying the frayed bulk of the float. "Why didn't you go away with the others?" A faint whisper, a waft of perfume, and he turned to the colorful tents that had been pitched to his left. Refugees. Refugees from the youkai riot, camping in parks or whatever open spaces this town had.

The wind picked up strength, carrying out to him the voices of playing children and a woman's delighted laugh. "Is that you?" he murmured. "Are you there?"

He walked to the tents, ignoring the filth that surrounded the area. He stopped for a moment to look at a kite, gliding huge and graceful in the blue sky.

A kite with the figure of a swan.

Without thinking, he entered the first tent in front of him.

The old man sitting alone on a rickety bench was vaguely familiar. Goku stared at him, shocked, trying to equate the rotund clerk he had met in a luxurious inn with this emaciated, round-shouldered figure. "Querulous-san? I mean… Ji Hui?" he corrected himself, finding the name he was trying to remember. "It's you, right? Ji Hui?"

Ji Hui did not move. He opened and closed his mouth, his eyes very wide.

"What—what happened?" Goku asked. "Was your inn attacked or something?"

Ji Hui lowered his head, cringing further into the threadbare blanket he had on his shoulders.

Goku surveyed the darkened tent, still surprised. It smelled. In a corner, a fly hovered over two empty food bowls, its buzzing filling the silence. Was this only an eerie coincidence? Was it possible? "If you don't tell me what happened, I'll have to go," he warned the old man. No answer. Goku clicked his tongue, annoyed. "All right, then. I must go. Bye."

"That was not my inn," Ji Hui finally rasped and Goku halted at the tent entrance. "It never was. I could pretend, but it was not mine. Do you still have my talisman?"

"Your—what?"

"My talisman," Ji Hui answered shakily. "I gave it to you that night."

"Ah, that little stone," Goku said slowly after rifling through his hazy memories. "No, I—I lost it." _In Daiki's house… Along with my teammates' luggage._ He tightened his hold on the sack of coins he carried. "Sorry, I … lost it." He shrugged, at a loss for more words. Ji Hui's face crumbled and for an appalling moment Goku thought the man would start to cry.

"Gao-sama fired me," Ji Hui explained, his voice sounding distant. "Threw us onto the street, my grandson and I." He licked his lips, indifferent to the fly that now crawled on his face. "Someone told him that we helped you. The monk and his demons."

Goku nodded. "And you did. We retrieved Gojyo—"

"And _this_ is my payment for that, foreigner," Ji Hui interrupted. "No house. No money. Nothing. Bai is out there, somewhere, trying to find us food. I don't know what—I don't know what we're going to do…" his voice broke and he wiped his mouth with the back of a shaking hand. "I wanted… I just wanted my talisman back. I threw it away, you know? I threw away her talisman." A tear ran down the wrinkled face. "I dreamed of her last night, you know? Lien… I dreamed of her. We were watching the swans again near the pond in the yard and she told me everything would be fine."

"Lien?" Goku echoed. "Was _that_ her name?" And suddenly, with stunning clarity, he knew why _she _had led him to this place. He chuckled, despite himself. "Women don't do anything outright," he added half under his breath, repeating something he had heard Gojyo saying.

"What?" Ji Hui rasped without interest.

Goku huffed good-humoredly and went to him. "Here, Querulous-san," he said, dropping the sack of coins into the old man's hands. "This is for you." The wind shook the tent and Goku smiled when he heard _her_ laugher again. "Take your grandson and go away," he muttered. "Or buy that inn for you both. Or—" Goku sighed, tired. "Damn, do whatever you want."

He did not wait for an answer—or, more likely, for questions—and quickly exited the tent. He spotted Sanzo's unmistakable blond head near the float/ship and wiped his hands on his pants. "Fuck," he mumbled wryly, "he will kill me when he finds out that I lost our money. I'll need—"

_A good luck talisman,_ _ne?_ sang _her_ disembodied voice.

Goku chuckled, the wind playing with his hair. "Yeah. That would be great." He looked up at blue sky, a complete sense of peace flooding him. The kite was gone.

And so, he knew, was _she_.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"Hakkai? Hey? _Hakkai!_"

Gojyo stretched luxuriously on the warm grass and cracked one eye open. Above him, clouds navigated the late afternoon sky in huge golden chunks.

"Let's start dinner?" Goku's voice carried out to him again. "I'm hungry."

Gojyo smiled. It had been a while since he had heard that one.

"We have to wait for Sanzo." Hakkai's much lower answer was almost lost over the murmur of the river. "Maybe we'll dine and sleep in the village."

"You mean, sleep in a _real_ bed?" Goku asked, excited. "I can't even remember _how long_ it's been since we've slept in one."

"Can you believe that the laundry is already dry?" Hakkai said, changing the subject. "Even Sanzo's jeans and your jacket! Blessed be this sun!"

Gojyo's smile spread wider. They had not slept in beds—nor eaten a meal that was not rationed—since the Temple of the Soul's Retreat and that because _Goku_ had lost their money. Hakkai was too tactful to point that out aloud, though, and avoided drama by praising the small things that helped them keep going. Had Goku complained about their circumstances to Sanzo or to Gojyo himself, neither would let pass the chance to remind the _saru_ of his blundering—it had been a tough couple of weeks, after all, and Goku deserved to feel guilt.

Goku let out a shriek that turned into laughter and Gojyo sighed resignedly, knowing he would not be able to go back to sleep. Not with Goku on one of his hyper days. He sat up in time to see the boy running naked towards the river, which, like a living, playful creature, shone beckoningly in the sun. They had found this place mid-morning and no one had been inclined to break camp as the day wore on. Besides, Sanzo had been so desperate for a little Goku-free time that he had taken the jeep and gone ahead to check out the village he had spotted on their map. The coward.

Goku splashed water at Hakkai and let out a long, taunting chortle. "Come in, Hakkai, the water is warm."

Hakkai said something, shaking his head; then his eyes met Gojyo's and he smiled brightly. Gojyo smiled back and Hakkai put down the dry clothes he had been folding and came to sit beside Gojyo, his face serene. "Sorry, did we wake you?"

Gojyo snorted and pointed at Goku. "Not 'we.' _He_."

Hakkai grunted, amused. "He's just releasing some pent-up energy," he said affectionately, wiping the knees of his old brown pants. "Be patient. He's coming along. Soon we'll have our Son Goku back with us."

"That's what I fear," Gojyo said. A pause, then he hesitantly asked, "What about Sanzo? Is he … coming along, too? I mean, Sanzo hides his feelings well, but you're more perceptive than me." It hurt to acknowledge that Hakkai understood Sanzo better, but then Hakkai understood everyone and everything better. The truth was, Gojyo no longer knew where he stood with the monk. Since they had been hoisted up from that cliff, Sanzo had been … Sanzo. Aloof. Not unreasonably aggressive, but not friendly either. There had been no more glimpses of the man who had called him a whore and no more glimpses of the man who had kissed him. It was like nothing—bad or good—had ever happened.

"He's recovering as well, I suppose," Hakkai replied, now watching Goku's stunts in the river. "And it's Goku who has helped him to find his ground again. This may sound strange, Gojyo, but, for me, it's hard to think of Sanzo without Goku around." He waved his hand in the air, already sensing a joke over such a statement. "Yes, Goku is pushy and demanding and can be, er … overwhelming, but they sort of complete each other. Sanzo is—"

"Goku's father," Gojyo murmured.

Hakkai shifted his gaze to Gojyo, his lips quirking up. "Never tell him that," he said. "Otherwise he will shoot you—or _Goku—_to prove to the world that he doesn't 'fucking care, damnit!'" The imitation was flawless and Gojyo snickered. "But," Hakkai went on, voice and expression growing somber, "sometimes parents find strength to go on for their children, if not for themselves."

"Yeah, I suppose," Gojyo agreed, struggling to keep his mind blank. He did not want to think of the many, countless implications they still had to deal with—not today. He focused on the sunlit water, instead, willing the flood of dark memories away. One step at a time. That was how life would have to be lived from now on; one step at a time, until they all felt ready to start running again.

"How is your arm?" Hakkai's voice intruded, bringing him back to their Here & Now.

"What, are _you _my father?" Gojyo teased lamely. A few meters away, Goku had waded to the riverbank and now stood very still, shading his face with a hand. It seemed that it was time for the next dose of his Sanzo fix.

"Your mother, actually," Hakkai deadpanned, flicking a beetle off Gojyo's sleeve.

Gojyo tilted his head to the sky. "It's okay," he whispered after a while. And, to his surprise, that was true. His arm _was_ okay. He could do everything—or almost everything—without having to think. Without pain.

Hakkai hummed his short sound of satisfaction, and suddenly Gojyo's throat tightened. With his _chi_, his sour-tasting medicines, and his loving care, Hakkai _had _saved his arm. And Goku's dick. And Sanzo's life. And he was still looking over them, unobtrusively, delicately, doing his little-but-capital Hakkai things, like choosing the best places to camp, or cooking (sometimes sharing or even giving up his portions), or subtly intervening when Goku became too out of hand. Gods almighty, what would any of them do without Hakkai?

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Hakkai asked softly.

"Uh?"

"The sun on the water."

In awe, Gojyo stared at Hakkai's profile. His cheekbones were more pronounced—Hakkai had grown thinner—and the glossy dark hair needed a cut. Or not. It was... "Just perfect. The gods were in love when they created yo—it."

"The sun on the water is beautiful," Hakkai repeated, his voice barely audible. "That was my first rational thought after I … went mad." He sighed and hugged his folded legs. "I remember I was walking from somewhere, and it must have been raining because the streets were wet. But there was also sun—you know when we have those summer storms, then the sky clears up again?" He turned his face to Gojyo, his smile so sad. "The streets were gleaming that afternoon, gleaming like they were paved in gold. I wanted that golden glory for me, in me. It felt so … _right_, to be drenched by that beauty. I knew right _there_ that it was time to stop—stop killing, stop bathing in blood. Then there was rain again, red—blood—began tainting everything again, and the sun … the sun was gone. There was only water and blood. My blood. And pain."

"Then I found you," Gojyo muttered, remembering that rainy night particularly well.

"So you did." Hakkai looked at the sky. "And I'm glad that when it was time for you to make a choice, you chose the sun over the blood. Revenge is a cold, solitary path to walk."

Gojyo opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. There was no possible answer to _that_.

"The Colonel is in jail," Hakkai went on calmly, as if commenting on something irrelevant to their conversation so far. "That's why we didn't see him around when we went back to the town. I don't know if they'll execute him—nobody wants to disturb the elite of the Anthill—but his career is over."

"How—how do you know all that?"

"Captain Wu Tai's men aren't disciplined; they talk a lot to each other, they make jokes. The Colonel's fall from grace caused no small glee among some. Apparently, there's a rift between the soldiers of the Anthill and the rest of the army. I paid attention to our escort's bantering and connected the dots, so to speak."

"I heard some jokes, too, but—" Gojyo shrugged. _But unlike you, I was not paying attention. I was too busy feeling angry. _

Hakkai rested his chin on his knees and continued in a lower voice, "I also heard Xie Dewei talking to Sanzo during our journey back to that town. Xie-san was entertaining foreign dignitaries on the night of the youkai riot—people who had been invited to see first hand the efficiency of his army—and it seems the Colonel refused to present the Council's plan for a centralized military command in the area. The Colonel also didn't answer Xie-san's pleas for help during the riot and Xie-san and his family ended up spending the Festival locked in a bathroom. Xie-san's servants and guests either hid or fled, and, still according to Xie-san, more than one priceless heirloom from his house went missing. The Colonel's career is over." Hakkai made a pause, his face lighting up at Goku's hesitant approach. "Hey, you, come on and sit here with us!"

Goku stopped in front of them, wearing nothing but his I-need-Sanzo-and-I-need-him-now expression. "Hakkai?" he whined, pushing away his dripping hair. "Sanzo is late, don't you think? We should go and look for him, don't you think?"

"He promised you that he would come back in one hour," Hakkai answered evenly. There was no recrimination in his voice, no belittlement, no impatience. "It isn't one hour yet."

"Still," Goku insisted. "It's dangerous out there. He might have been attacked. He might have been hurt. I should—"

"—put some clothes on so the rest of the world won't have to look at your pee-pee?" Gojyo taunted, his mind reeling with Hakkai's words. Was it possible that _he_ had gotten his due, after all? "Or, maybe, shut your trap and get a grip so Sanzo will stop fleeing from you?"

Goku narrowed his eyes, not taking the joke well.

"All right," Hakkai said as he gained his feet, "I'd better finish the laundry. Goku, did you find your socks?"

"No," Goku mumbled. "I think Jiro stole them. Though what someone who was going to kill himself would do with an old pair of socks is—"

"Kill himself?" Hakkai halted mid-step, shocked. "What are you talking about?"

Goku shrugged, pouting. "Well, yeah, that's what I understood he was going to do."

"And when was that?" Hakkai insisted. "Jiro was pretty reticent during our trip back to the town."

"He's making this up, Hakkai," Gojyo piped in.

"I am _not_!" Goku protested, frowning down at Gojyo. "We got to Jiro's house after the purification, and I went inside to help him with our bags, remember? You guys stayed in the coach."

Gojyo twisted his mouth, still not convinced. "And in the five minutes that it took you to go with him to fetch our bags, he decided, out of the blue, to take you into his confidence and drop this bomb on you? Okay."

"Look, I don't give a fuck if you don't believe me," Goku bristled, jerking his chin up. "But I met Jiro and other youkai on the night you two were arrested—I left our luggage in a shack that belonged to one of those youkai, actually. Jiro-san invited me to help him carry the bags because… I think he wanted to share with someone what he was about to do. Like an old man who called Sanzo to his deathbed once to tell him about a day he had spent with his nephew. That old man just wanted to share something, you know? That's what Sanzo explained to me afterwards. Jiro is—or was—very lonely. He also didn't have the money Xie Dewei wanted. Never had. He bluffed all the while so the fortress would be purified."

Gojyo lifted an eyebrow at that. "So, Xie Dewei had a little disappointment, eh? Serves the old fart well."

"What did Jiro say to you—exactly?" Hakkai whispered, sounding haunted.

Goku huffed, annoyed. "You don't expect me to quote him word-by-word, do you? He said he killed Ojii-sama—the ancient who founded that town—on the night of the riot. I asked him why he had done that, since he was not affected by the Madness and Ojii-sama being a youkai besides, but he just smiled. Then he said that he didn't have any money—that he had given away his savings—but that he would be glad if I accepted his deck of mahjong cards as a farewell gift. Which I did. Then he said that all the loose ends of his life had been tied up and now he could die in peace. And I _knew_ he was going to kill himself; I could … sense it."

Gojyo whistled, shaking his head. Hakkai tightened his lips, nodded once, and started walking towards the river.

"Are you going to search for my socks?" Goku asked, ready to follow him. "It's the green ones, you know them? Hakkai? Hey!"

Gojyo grabbed Goku's wrist to keep him from following Hakkai—who visibly needed time to digest the news. "You won't find your socks, _saru_," he confided, lowering his voice. "I think Jiro did steal them."

Goku crouched by him, widening his eyes. "Really?"

"I can even picture the guy in his last moments," Gojyo continued. "Flowing silk robe, check. Elaborate make-up, check. Stylish hairdo, check. Expensive perfume, check. Lime-green socks with a hole in one of the toes, check. Of course he would _love _his body to be found wearing—"

Goku leaped forward, shoving Gojyo down and landing with his knees on his chest.

"Hey, watch out, _saru_!" Gojyo warned, keeping his hands away from the naked body on him. "I don't want certain parts of your anatomy touching me!"

"That was not funny, cockroach," Goku snarled. "I think _you_ hid my socks, just to annoy me! You know I liked those!"

"I wouldn't be caught dead wearing those, either," Gojyo drawled. "Now, that silk shirt of yours—"

"You thief! I'll tell Sanzo—" Goku stilled and craned his neck to the side. He then released Gojyo and in a fluid, cat-like move, stood and ran to the narrow dirt road. "It's Sanzo!" he announced happily. "Hakkai, it's Sanzo! Sanzo is back!"

Gojyo turned to lie on his stomach and watched, halfway between irritated and amused, Goku's white buttocks mooning the world as the jeep was brought to a halt. If the fake priest had not sponged them some free provisions, Sanzo would be in very bad humor and might shoot Goku on the spot.

Now, _that_ would be quite an interesting scene.

Which would not happen: Sanzo fended off Goku's eager hands by shoving a brown bag into them, stepped out of the jeep exuding enthusiasm, and produced four more bags from the back seat.

"Candy!" Goku screamed, his face half-buried into the now open bag he held. "Hakkai, Gojyo, Sanzo brought us candy!"

Hakuryu changed back into his true form and flew to Hakkai with a cheerful tweet.

"Did you rob a store?" Gojyo mocked as he gained his feet.

"Better than that," Sanzo answered, barely able to balance the bags he carried.

"Do they have electricity?" Hakkai asked, not a trace of sadness in his voice now. "You could use your credit card?"

"Yep. Civilization at last." Sanzo dropped the bags onto Hakkai's lap and sat down beside him with a grunt. "It's a shitty village, but I found one store that accepted credit cards. I got us food and some other supplies." He sniffed at his own body and made a face. "Like soap and deodorant. Fuck, I need a bath."

"The water is good, Sanzo," Goku said, already chewing one of his treats. "It's deep in—"

"Swallow first, then talk," Sanzo chided. "And put your clothes on if you're done in the river."

Goku tucked the candy bag under one arm, wiped his right hand on his thigh and reached for the folded laundry. Sanzo slapped his wrist. "Don't touch those with a dirty hand if Hakkai just washed them," he growled.

"But it's clean, Sanzo!" Goku whined. "Look, it's clean!"

"All I can see is that it's time to cut those nails again," Sanzo muttered. "Now _dress_."

Goku did not protest the bit about his nails and began carefully searching for clothes in the pile. Gojyo noticed how his whole demeanor was suddenly more relaxed, more confident—more Son Goku-like. Sanzo's simplest word worked better than any drug Hakkai concocted. Gojyo could not condemn Goku for that. He had fallen into this very trap once.

"Cigarettes," Hakkai announced and Gojyo jumped forward and took the grocery sack from him to peek inside.

"So, we're going to watch TV tonight, Sanzo?" Goku asked as he tried, one-handed, to put on his pants.

"We're not going to take rooms in that village," Sanzo replied, untying his breastplate. "The only inn they have is a fleapit. We're much better out here."

"Oh," Goku moaned, disappointed. "But we—can't we go there just to watch TV? It's been forever since we had TV!"

"Forget it, I won't go back there."

"But—"

"Goku. I said no."

"But—"

"Sanzo, Goku and I could go," Hakkai broke in lightly. "We could look around a bit, then come back in a couple of hours. What do you say, Goku?"

"Uh?" Goku zipped up his pants and shoved another candy into his mouth. "Yeah, Hakkai and I could go, Sanzo."

Gojyo glanced at Hakkai, then at Sanzo. Both looked pleasantly surprised with Goku's agreement. As a group, they were still relearning how to function without checking on each other all the time, but for _Goku _to be willing to leave Sanzo's side—to watch TV, no less… Damn, this was the afternoon for revelations and breakthroughs!

"All right," Sanzo said, his voice neutral as ever, as he took the grocery sacks from Hakkai and started rummaging through them. "A couple of hours. Be back before it's too dark."

"Sure," Goku cheered, grabbing a shirt and going to put on his shoes. "You liar, Gojyo, my silk shirt is there! Don't you dare take it; do you hear me? Are you ready, Hakkai?"

"What about dinner?" Hakkai asked, standing up. "I'll cook you something first—"

"Go," Sanzo interrupted impatiently. "You're worse than Goku, sometimes." He extended a crumpled bill to Hakkai. "Here, the last of our change. Eat at the village. Gojyo and I will have a snack." He turned to Gojyo. "Is the soap in your bag?"

Gojyo, who had stilled completely at hearing 'Gojyo and I,' just stared blankly at him.

"Soap, Gojyo," Sanzo repeated slowly.

"What?"

"Look in the bag you have in your hands," Hakkai suggested, amused, as he passed by Gojyo, Hakuryu on his shoulders.

Gojyo blinked and looked down. There were indeed some colorful bars in the sack. Soap. He seized one and tossed it to Sanzo, who caught it with a precision and an economy of movement that would make a youkai envious.

_Gojyo and I. _

On the dirt road, Hakkai sat in the jeep, his hands tracing the wheel. He turned to Sanzo and waved when Goku, bag of sweets still firmly held, took the passenger seat. Gojyo opened his mouth to ask Hakkai to wait. He would go with them. Certainly he could not stay here, alone with Sanzo as Sanzo bathed.

Could he?

Nope, there was no way he would stay. There was no…

_Gojyo and I. _

Hakkai smiled at him—quite aware of his predicament if the expression on his face was anything to go by—and put the jeep into gear. And then it was too late to say or do anything but stand stupidly while Sanzo undressed. Annoyed, he took for himself a pack of cigarettes and left the rest of the groceries for Hakkai to sort out later.

Sanzo was naked now.

Gojyo glanced nervously at the pale body and retreated once more to his place on the grass. He lit a cigarette and lay down on his back, pretending disinterest in what was going on around him.

Sanzo waded into the water.

Gods.

Sanzo in the water.

Two of the most tempting things in the world mixed together.

Lulled by the sensual whispers of the river, he closed his eyes as the memory of the scene on that rocky ledge played again in his head. The feel of Sanzo's mouth on his. The feel of Sanzo's hands on him. The feel of Sanzo…

Shit, that was a reaction that he had not experienced in full since… Since when? Way before _him_, that was for sure. The Colonel might have wrenched a response from his body, but Gojyo's rational mind had not been engaged in the process at all. And it had been not much better with Zenko. The forlorn session with his right hand after they had finally restarted their journey had also been performed with detachment—just a dull chore meant to ease physical discomfort. Nothing like this powerful, wholesome sensation.

He reached down to adjust his pants.

Damn, he should be ashamed. Sanzo despised him. Where was his anger—the anger that had given him strength to stand up to Sanzo—when he needed it the most?

"Gojyo?"

He opened his eyes. Framed by the golden sky, Sanzo hovered over him, staring down, only a towel wrapped around his waist. Gojyo widened his eyes, too surprised to enjoy the view. Then he noticed the bulk under the towel, right _there_, as if Sanzo were quite ready for…

Gojyo sat bolt upright, his forgotten cigarette still stuck in his dry mouth.

_Oh gods. Oh gods oh gods oh gods—_

"Fuck, monk, are you trying to imitate Goku now?" he muttered, attempting to keep his tone light. It was impossible. "Put some clothes on!"

Sanzo continued looking at him with a neutral face, then shifted his gaze to the horizon. "The day is almost at an end," he commented inanely.

_Yeah, so? _Gojyo thought frantically. _What comes next? Are we going to discuss the weather? Fucking confused/confusing sore excuse for a priest! _

"I think this scenery is too good to waste," Sanzo continued when it became clear that Gojyo would not contribute to the conversation. "Don't you agree?" And he dropped the towel.

Gojyo gaped at Sanzo's erect member—which was beautiful and elegant like everything Sanzo-related—then croaked, making a conscious effort not to fidget, "Look, I don't know what game you think you're playing…"

"Game?" Sanzo stepped forward, took the cigarette from Gojyo's mouth (his thumb brushing Gojyo's lower lip in the process) and sat on his discarded towel. "This is not a game, Gojyo. It was never a game for me."

Gojyo bit back a retort. It had never been a game for him either. But Sanzo had thought the worst of him—Sanzo always thought the worst of him—and had accused him of playing irresponsibly. Of playing foul.

Old sour anger flared for a moment and Gojyo opened his mouth, lower lip still tingling from Sanzo's ghostly touch, to tell the self-centered, self-conceited idiot what he could do now with that prick of his. But…

But then this was _Sanzo_.

So close.

Naked.

Perfect in the fading light.

"Do you remember that lake surrounded by a pine grove?" Sanzo asked, taking a drag from Gojyo's cigarette. "You went swimming, you and Goku, then you came over to eat. Remember that?"

Gojyo nodded, past words. If he moved his left knee a bit he would touch Sanzo's thigh…

And oh holy fucking gods, Sanzo was naked!

"That evening," Sanzo said softly, "I should have dragged you into the grove and taken you." He studied the lit point of the cigarette before putting it down. "I wanted to."

Gojyo stared at him, his pants definitely tight now. "I don't think—"

Sanzo leaned forward, entangling his hands in Gojyo's hair before pulling him to meet his mouth. The kiss started forceful and demanding, then became gentler when Gojyo did not react. Sanzo withdrew a little and rested his lips on Gojyo's left cheek. On Gojyo's old scars. "You never do."

"Do what?" Gojyo murmured drunkenly. Sanzo's hair was still wet and the contact of water made him shiver.

"Think." Sanzo released him and sat back, his erection jutting from its nest of golden curls. "You're overdressed for the occasion. Stand up and get rid of those clothes."

"Sanzo…"

"We'll talk later," Sanzo answered, his tone neutral as ever. "Strip."

Gojyo swallowed down any further protests, took off his boots and, after three attempts, managed to gain his shaking legs. Flitting thoughts of things going too fast—of later regrets generating more anger—slowed him down, made him clumsy and hesitant, though the prospect of a bleaker future was not strong enough to put an end to what he could definitely have now. His body screamed at him that it wanted this—it desperately wanted this. And Sanzo wanted it too, so there was no point in denying anyone anything. The rest...

The rest could wait.

He unbuttoned his shirt, aware of Sanzo's intent eyes following his movements. In other circumstances, with a different lover, he might have put on a teasing show. Not today. Not with this man. It was difficult to act all sexy when one felt so self-conscious.

Pants and underwear were dropped next, and then Gojyo stood in front of Sanzo, his erection already leaking.

_You cheap whore_, he cursed himself, ashamed and unbelievably excited by Sanzo's mute scrutiny. _You cheap, lucky whore… _

Sanzo gestured to him with a hand, _Come here_, and Gojyo closed the short distance between them with trepidation. Sanzo held him firmly by his hips, lips almost touching Gojyo's member. Gojyo's hands fluttered in the air, uncertain, then rested on Sanzo's head. That golden, silky hair, still wet… He moaned and slid to his knees.

"Gojyo?"

"Sorry, I—" _want you, need you, can't believe that you're touching me_ "—I don't think I'll last long, Sanzo."

Sanzo snorted superiorly. "You're not going to make me do all the hard work alone, are you?"

"I—sorry…" Gojyo closed his eyes, his skin coming alive at the points where it touched Sanzo's body. Touched Sanzo's heat. "The river," he faltered. _And you_. "Water sometimes… It's—it's too much."

There was a soft caress on his head, just a skimming of fingertips. "Do you want to stop?" Sanzo asked, sounding … concerned?

"Don't you dare," Gojyo rasped shakily. "Or I'll have to kill you."

Sanzo snorted again and traced the scar on Gojyo's left arm all the way down to his wrist. He lifted that wrist to his mouth, then, and nibbled at the skin, precisely on Gojyo's pulse.

"Fuck, monk!"

"In a few."

"You… Shit! I preferred… I preferred you … when you didn't have a sense of humor."

"And I prefer you when you're quiet." And Sanzo descended upon Gojyo's mouth, pushing him back onto the grass.

This time the kiss was long and deep. Gojyo tried to mimic Sanzo's thrusting movements with his tongue, only to have it pushed back. His hands, he discovered when he tried to caress Sanzo's buttocks, were now pinned to the ground. He moaned into Sanzo's mouth and Sanzo growled back into his—a response that Gojyo could feel rippling through his whole body, setting frayed nerves on fire.

Oh damn, he was going to climax. He was going to climax just by having Sanzo's tongue stuck in his mouth. He might warn Sanzo about that, he should…

"Wait here."

What? It took a while for the words to make sense. Then, with a shock, he realized that Sanzo was no longer pressing him down. No more Sanzo.

"Sanzo?" he called, worried.

"Found it."

He turned in the direction of the voice. Sanzo was crouched in their little camp, among folded laundry, luggage, and grocery sacks.

"Fuck, I thought—for a minute here I thought…" Gojyo broke off and pushed his hair out of his eyes. _I thought that you had freaked out_. "What are you looking for?"

Sanzo waved something metallic in the air and came over to him, his erection still standing proud. Gojyo gaped at the beautiful vision he presented, all smooth paleness and flowing long lines.

"Lube," Sanzo said simply, kneeling by Gojyo's side.

"Lube?"

Sanzo lifted an eyebrow at him. "You must have heard of it?"

Gojyo let out a giddy sound and lay back once more, overwhelmed. This was happening, right? This was really, really happening. This god-like human was going to fuck him.

"It'll be easier if you get on all fours," Sanzo murmured.

"How do you know so much—"

"Honestly, Gojyo," Sanzo huffed with impatience. "Been there, done that."

"You … did? I thought—I thought you were…"

"An uptight virgin?" Sanzo finished for him, amused.

"Yeah," Gojyo spluttered, "that pretty much sums things up."

Sanzo shrugged and offered casually, "It seems we both were mistaken about the other."

And _that_, Gojyo knew, would be the closest to an apology regarding the name-calling thing. He bit his lower lip, afraid of saying something that would anger Sanzo or expose himself further. He might willingly open his body to Sanzo, but his heart? his soul? Sanzo hada cruel streak, and Gojyo had already been burned badly. He knew he was going to be burned again.

"Gojyo?" Sanzo poured oil in a circle around Gojyo's navel, the warm touch of the liquid unbearably sensual, then pressed his palm against it, splaying his fingers wide. "You okay?"

Five straight fiery lines radiating off Gojyo's very center.

Gojyo released the breath he had been holding. The sun gave life. And, sometimes, it took it away. That was how nature was. Life and Death were parts of the same whole. "Yeah," he whispered. "I'm okay."

"So turn and get on your knees."

"No." Gojyo stared into Sanzo's eyes. "I want to look at you while you do me." And he gasped, stunned, when Sanzo smiled down at him.

"Spread for me, then," Sanzo ordered, settling himself between Gojyo's legs and hoisting Gojyo's hips to his thighs with a haste that betrayed his desperation.

Blissfully surrendering control, Gojyo allowed Sanzo to position their bodies as he wished. He moaned and relaxed further when Sanzo's right hand started a slow massage around his opening while the left one roamed over his chest, caressing whatever it could reach. The dual stimulation was intoxicating, and when Sanzo inserted a finger into him, Gojyo arched upwards and offered his mouth for another kiss. Sanzo complied briefly, then pushed him back, leaning down along with him.

"Don't," Sanzo breathed in Gojyo's ear. "Let me have you on my terms today."

"But you… Sanzo, I'm not giving you anything!"

Sanzo chuckled and the hot air he released into Gojyo's ear made Gojyo squeeze his eyes shut. "Oh, I wouldn't sell myself so short if I were you, half-breed." And he pushed in another finger, hitting Gojyo's prostate.

Gojyo gasped, his senses soaring.

It was good, so good, to be…

_…Gojyo and I… _

…alive.

Sanzo had his hand partially inside him—three fingers now, or so it seemed. And oh sweet, sweet merciful gods, how many times had he fantasized about Sanzo's hands, those fingerless gloves of his still on, touching and caressing him? Gojyo lifted his head, wanting to see Sanzo's hand inside him. He was…

(…_Gojyo and I…_)

…Sanzo's glove now…

(…_alive again._) 

He might or might not have said that aloud and Sanzo was also muttering something—maybe a confession, a curse, a promise. Whatever it was, it was irrelevant. Because, the preparations were over and with a single thrust, Sanzo finally, finally entered him.

There was a pause while both of them tried to adapt to their union. When Sanzo began moving—slowly, tentatively—Gojyo locked his legs around Sanzo's back, bringing him closer, bringing him further into himself. Sanzo looked at him stunned, a drop of sweat stuck on the tip of his nose. _Together_, Gojyo sent mutely to him, knowing his face mirrored Sanzo's rapt expression. Sanzo nodded once, sustaining the stare, pupils so dilated that his eyes appeared to be black. Raw need took over then, dictating the changes in their dance.

Sanzo sped up his pace, breaking eye contact, and Gojyo was left teetering on the edge of losing himself. His body sang, demanding more—faster, rougher, more. He tasted salt and squinted up. Head threw backwards, Sanzo rode him with animal abandonment, his thrashing sprinkling Gojyo with sweat. One of those droplets had fallen into Gojyo's open mouth and another now traced his left eyebrow. Gojyo licked his lips, stuck his tongue out and caught another drop of Sanzo's sweat, elated. Drinking Sanzo—he was literally drinking Sanzo; and the thought spiked his desire to new highs. He sat up, or tried to, pulling Sanzo deeper into himself.

_Mine! Mine, mine, mine— _

Sanzo keened once and reached between them to grab Gojyo's member. "I can't… Gojyo, I won't … won't last…" He looked down, face stripped of all masks, more beautiful in this moment than Gojyo had ever seen him. "Gojyo, I… I must… " Gojyo gazed in awe. Behind Sanzo, the sun was plunging into the river—into the water whose rhythm Gojyo could feel in his very veins now. "I will…"

_Come home, my love, _Gojyo prayed; then Sanzo's orgasm triggered his own and he became Nothing and Everything.

**o o o**

The sun, Gojyo knew, still shone as ever … somewhere. The cutting wind and the heavy low clouds announced that winter was coming, and coming to stay. From his place in the back of the jeep, he buried himself further into his coat and tugged his headband down to protect his ears. Maybe they would have snow before nightfall—the first snow of this late autumn.

By his side, Goku played with his mahjong deck, shuffling and pulling cards out at random. From time to time he would ask Sanzo or Hakkai for their meaning in combination with the other cards he had already drawn. Until now the answers had been pretty polite, but Gojyo knew that Sanzo would hit the _saru_ with his fan at any given minute if he did not shut up. Why would Sanzo need his fan in this cold if not to deal a few slaps around?

Another card was produced and Goku waved it in the air. Gojyo had to hide his smile, for, in the passenger seat, Sanzo's back straightened indicating that he was ready to act. Instead of the expected question, though, Goku whined a complaint: "Sanzo, I'm hungry."

Gojyo clicked his tongue, slightly disappointed. These days, Sanzo tended to be lenient when Goku came out with this.

"Sanzo?" Goku insisted. "Did you hear—"

Sanzo turned his head to the back, his eyes meeting Gojyo's before focusing on Goku. "You just had lunch," Sanzo said with more patience than Goku deserved. "Wait until dinnertime."

"But, Sanzo," Goku moaned. "I'm hungry _now_. And it's cold."

"There's a village ahead," Hakkai said calmly. "We could stop there for a minute and get more supplies."

"We don't need more supplies," Sanzo growled, transferring his stare to Hakkai.

"We _always_ need more supplies, Sanzo!" Goku protested.

Gojyo was tempted to add a teasing "And comfy warm beds," but Sanzo had vehemently forbidden him to crack jokes that alluded to their liaison in front of the others. It was difficult. Sanzo made him giddy and sometimes he just _had _to relieve the pressure in the form of a silly comment—that was how he coped with life and its petty frustrations. He had tried to explain that to Sanzo, with no success so far. It did not matter that Goku would still be totally clueless even if he caught both of them necking or that Hakkai had known about them since the first day. Sanzo had said No and Sanzo was adamant.

Gojyo sighed. If Sanzo wanted to maintain some sort of decorum for the sake of their mission, he could and would understand. But the reason behind Sanzo's patrol speech seemed intended—and that was what nagged Gojyo—to preserve his I'm-An-Inexpugnable-Fortress facade. Gojyo was not sure if such a facade was being kept in place merely out of pride, though. Sanzo had been his lover for almost five months and both of them had already learned the paths and shortcuts to each other's bodies, but motivations, inner struggles, and personal ghosts were not so easily dealt with.

"Life is not a story," Sanzo had told him in the aftermath of one of their longer, more satisfying intimate sessions. "We just don't solve all our problems; we can't tie up all our loose threads. Because life is also problems and loose threads. There's no climax in which the villain dies, there are no real happy endings." And he had taken a handful of Gojyo's hair and kissed it in an amazingly tender gesture. "We just … go on, the best way we can. The way we know how."

Gojyo sighed again, fisted his now-too-long hair in a ponytail, then let it fall again. It had been a while since he had had some time alone with Sanzo. And, from the hungry looks he had been receiving, Sanzo was of the same opinion.

Lights shimmered in the distance and he squinted along the road. Not much could be seen because of the bad weather. Sanzo leaned forward to point out something to Hakkai on their map and his hand accidentally brushed Hakkai's on the gear. Both of them tensed as if they had experienced an electric shock.

Gojyo pressed his hands together and there was a faint stab of pain in his left wrist. Sanzo had chosen _him_, but it was obvious that he had unresolved issues with Hakkai.

Hakkai, who had deeper feelings for…

As if on cue, Hakkai half-turned in his seat and smiled at him. Gojyo smiled back, loving how the cold had reddened Hakkai's usually pale cheeks. They did not discuss much about anything—had not even talked about those inexplicable moments in which they seemed to have shared dreams in that hellish town—but the intimacy was there, all the time, built upon comfortable silences and absolute acceptance. Hakkai was happy for him.

Sanzo hit Hakkai's knee with the fan—_Pay attention to the road!_—and suddenly an image, probably born of sexual frustration, took form in Gojyo's mind: those two naked, entangled together, pleasuring each other as if there was no tomorrow.

The thought caused a jolt in his groin and guiltily he adjusted his position in the seat.

How would it be, he asked himself, if they left Goku and Hakuryu watching TV somewhere and got, the three of them, a room? How would it feel to watch Sanzo kissing Hakkai, possessing Hakkai's supple body—beautiful, perfect Hakkai, who deserved much, much more than to spend his nights reading old letters from a long dead lover?

There was a pang of jealousy, true. Towards Sanzo. And towards Hakkai. Besides, neither Sanzo nor Hakkai would suddenly discard their clothes and stumble onto a bed together just because Gojyo had asked them. But the possibilities…

Oh gods, the possibilities!

He felt a caress on his face and looked up. It had started to snow.

"Sanzo, it's snowing!" Goku screamed the obvious. "Will we stop now? Sanzo?"

Gojyo looked at the two heads in the front, Hakkai's dark hair already sparkled with white, Sanzo's fine strands dancing in the wind. And had to shift position again.

They were beautiful.

And they were his.

"Sanzo, it's cold!" Goku whimpered, dropping one of his cards. Gojyo ignored it at first, then leaned forward to pick it up. _Tien_. Heaven. The one that showed the end of a cycle and the beginning of another.

"Where to, Sanzo?" Hakkai asked, his voice curiously amused. "I'm afraid this will be a real storm."

Sanzo shook his head and waved at the road ahead with his fan. "Just follow the lights."


	25. Chapter 25

**Epilogue**

The boy carefully sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the chasm and looked down. The stream that ran far below him was a small miracle in this area and a source of dispute among the local farmers—men had quarreled, fought and killed over it for generations. Now, after a brief respite, it seemed that things were growing out of control again: a death had already been reported and certainly there would be others that would not make the official statistics.

He blinked sweat out of his eyes and squinted up at the sky. Almost noon.

He had told his grandparents and his fiancee that he would be home for the Festival—both women would be in the kitchen at the moment, cooking for him his favorite dishes. Nobody in the force had received a day off, though, so the visit would not happen. And, curiously, that had not exactly been bad news; his rare family gatherings had become more and more awkward as he adapted to the life in town. It seemed an eternity ago that he, then only a lost farmer in uniform, roamed the streets of what he now considered home with only one friend to keep him company.

Sighing, he took a dark object from one of his pockets, rolled it in his hands, then stared at it. He had kept this small round stone on him since the night that that friend—that _demon_—had held him at gunpoint, threatening to kill him to preserve his own secret. Tonight would be exactly one year since the youkai rebellion. And since he had been reborn, spared by Sima or whatever that thing's name was.

What had happened to it? He had carefully asked some questions around, but never had gotten any answer.

"Hey! Hey, Eng Ho!"

Eng Ho turned his head to look in the caller's direction, the stone secure in one fist. "I'm here, Zhou Jun-sama!"

"The fuck?" Zhou Jun cried. "What are you doing there, boy?"

"Just … remembering an old friend, Lieutenant."

"Remembering, eh? Remembering with your hands in your pants, I suppose? Never mind, a patrol caught something very interesting on the main road. Forget the farmers, we're going back to town."

"Youkai?" Eng Ho asked, his interest definitely piqued. Close by where he was sitting, big black ants hurriedly kept to the infinite cycle nature had given them.

Zhou Jun nodded. "A rare find these days, eh? Come and see for yourself. I guarantee you'll stop dreaming about girls when you take a look at the demon's red eyes. And the human with it is also … quite edible. Not like those pretties we had last Festival, nothing like that blond monk, but still…"

Zhou Jun had that predatory tone of his, and the toothy smile that Eng Ho had not seen for a while. Whoever the foreigner was, he would likely spend this night, and maybe the next two as well, having his ass hammered in old Wang's boarding house, trying to get papers for his demon.

A demon that would die.

Eng Ho tightened his fist, pressing the stone against his palm. Sima had showed him compassion, had spared his life. Which was so much, much more than his colleagues in the force had ever done to any youkai. Who were the soulless beasts again?

Laughter and catcalls wafted to him, breaking the silence of the hot day.

"The guys are already having some fun," Zhou Jun said, almost dancing with excitation. "Come on, boy, join us!"

Eng Ho stood, the small stone pressed so tightly against his palm that it hurt him. For a moment, he had a glimpse of the house on the farm, of grandma harassing grandpa as Dandan set the table, all waiting for him. Gods, he could go back to them… There was a considerable demand for labor in the country, now that youkai were not being hired any longer. He could go back and help grandpa and marry Dandan and start a family of his own. He could…

"Oh, I give up," Zhou Jun growled, exasperated. "Do as you wish, boy."

Eng Ho eyed the ants, blinking away tears. He let out the breath he was holding and, with it, allowed his bright childish dreams to fade away. "Wait, Lieutenant," he called, voice strained. "I'm coming with you!" Decision made, he then hurled the small stone down the chasm. It shone luminously in the sun while airborne, then plunged into the water, finding in the murky depths its last sanctuary.

**The End**


End file.
